


Some Kind of Serendipity

by AlyxSvoboda125



Series: The Industry [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Radio, Boyband, Canon Gay Relationship, Ed Sheeran is mentioned, England (Country), Gay Male Character, M/M, One Direction is mentioned, Romance, Secret Identity, Secret Relationship, Social Media, Touring, Tumblr, Twitter, United Kingdom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-10 12:03:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 60
Words: 205,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1159523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlyxSvoboda125/pseuds/AlyxSvoboda125
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Irial doesn't do relationships...and why should he? He's smart, sarcastic, likable and in his final year at university with a popular Twitter account and college radio station...plus, he's been burned before and doesn't need anyone besides his two flatmates and best friends.  Then he meets Crispin Emerson who's sweet and cute and not Irial's usual type, clean cut, Hipster, decidedly straight (sort of...maybe?) as well as an international pop sensation in yet another British boyband who can't tell the world he's gay (sort of...maybe?) at least gay for Irial. It shouldn't matter since they'd never going to see each other again, but it does and they do.  Finding a way to navigate love in the music industry might just be harder than working within it. (The scripts I wrote the preceded and helped inspire this are up and posted to my blog, which you can find a link to on the last page of this work)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "Animal" Conor Maynard

**Spotted: Boyband Sensation Breaking Fourth Arriving Back in London**  
Late last night, UK boyband, Breaking Fourth, arrived back in London via Heathrow Airport after spending nearly three months completing their North American tour.  The four teen heartthrobs, despite looking exhausted after a grueling nine hour flight from Chi-Town where the tour concluded, stopped to sign autographs and shake hands with their dedicated fans who gave up quite a chunk of beauty sleep for a chance to brush arms with the gorgeous internationally acclaimed popstars.  While the boys will only be back home a few months to finish up their third studio album, it seems they won't wear out their welcome any time soon.  
  
 **Early Bird Radio Show Interview**  
 **Interviewer:** So how's it feel to be back in England again?  
 **Cris:** A bit like coming home, I suppose.  
 **Dominic:** (laughs) Someone's cheeky this morning, Cris.  
 **Interviewer:** Happy to be back, then, I take it?  
 **Cris:** Of course. England's home.  I think we all may have a bit of wanderlust, but this is where our families are, our friends.  Coming back home is always incredible.  
 **Micah:** Yeah, you never realize how much you miss home until you're gone.  Touring's always really fun, getting to see all these new cultures and places and the fans, of course, but coming back home's always really great.  
 **Nic:** Little bittersweet, though, if we're being honest.  
 **Benji:** Yeah, yeah, got to play a bit of catch-up to readjust.  
 **Interviewer:** So, that what everyone's planning for today? Playing catch-up?  
 **Micah:** Just settling in, I think today.  
 **Nic:** Are we not going out tonight for our 'Huzzah we're homecoming'?  
 **Micah:** Oh, yeah, I quite forgot about that.  
 **Nic:** It's tradition.  
 **Benji:** I'm not quite sure that can be called a tradition yet.  
 **Cris:** No worries, Nic, when have we ever been able to resist the allure of the London club scene?  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
Who's this boy on my couch and where are his pants? #Iwasntthatdrunk #lostboy  
  
 **Irish Rose (@rosieposie)**  
@DorianII pretty sure he's not mine either  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
Potter...what's mine isn't yours too. Don't leave your naked leftovers in my flat #myflat #mycouch #mycoffee #gohome

* * *

 

"You're kind of a slut."

Irial registered the words, pursed his lips and cocked his head, examining the girl whose lips they'd fallen from with a judgmental and rather thoughtful expression.  He blew some cool air upon the surface of his scalding coffee—a pumpkin spice latte, his seasonal favorite, because he still hated the taste of coffee and would have ordered tea if Harry wasn't such an insufferable ass—and chose his words carefully.  He wasn't particularly insulted by the sentiment, but that didn't necessarily mean he wanted it spread around campus.  Cocking his head and sipping the liquid, trying not to scowl, he decided on, "I'm not sure you're qualified to make that assessment. I mean, it's a bit pot calling the kettle black, isn't it?"

Rosemary Ireland, flatmate, barista, and adamant speaker of truth, raised her eyebrows at him, twirling one of her strawberry blonde ringlets around her pointer finger.  They'd met first year, been stuck in a dorm together for their premiere year attending Middlesex University.  She was a brutally honest American from Savannah, Georgia with deceptively sweet looks that hid both pessimism and bitchiness.  Irial was flamboyant, loudmouthed, sarcastic without really bothering to hide it.  Both of them were acquired tastes, and they'd gotten on so well that by the time summer had rolled around at the end of first year, they'd already found a decent flat halfway between campus and central London, setting up shop, jobs, and a chore schedule, though they were still bickering over whether joint custody of a cat was a good idea.

"No, it isn't," Rosie argued, pursing her lips and glaring at Irial who just raised his eyebrows at her, not even bothering with an innocent expression.

Harry Benton-Sterling, their adoptive third flatmate, chose that moment to plop down at their table, hands clutching his own cardboard mug of coffee, black and artificial flavorless, Irial curled up his lip while Harry just smiled at him, unbothered.  Hipster freak, he really was.

" _I_ don't sleep with every guy I meet."

"I _don't_ sleep with _every_ guy. I didn't sleep with Harry."

Rosie choked on her mocha, slamming the cup down on the table and hunching over.  Harry blinked at Irial in disbelief, shaking his head upon seeing Irial's genuinely perplexed expression.

"What?  I didn't," Irial insisted, wracking his brain for a time when he'd had any sort of sexual contact with one of his best mates beyond flinging sexual innuendos in class and sprawling across his lap during movie nights.  It came to him suddenly, and he grimaced, shaking his head at the pair of them.  "That shouldn't count.  I was drunk."

"So was I," Harry laughed, shaking his head.  "Sex is sex though."

"Ew!" Rosie squealed, "Can we stop?"

Irial and Harry shared a laugh, and Irial shook his head and brushed the wispy strands of honey colored hair from his eyes to grin at Rosie, "You brought it up, sweetheart."  Rosie clucked her tongue at him and flipped him off while Harry leaned back in his seat silent, smiling, and shaking his head.  "Besides, it wasn't _me_ that let a naked law student sleep on the couch last night."

Rosie shot Harry the stink-eye, but the boy only shrugged half-heartedly and ducked his head, sipping his coffee genially, unconcerned by the topic of conversation.  She sighed and turned back to Irial, "No, you were the one who fucked Peter the music major in my bed."

"My bed was otherwise occupied. It wouldn't have been gentlemanly to do him in the bathroom."

"Preferable, though," Rosie intoned, "seeing as how I don't enjoy sleeping in other people's sweat and come."

Irial narrowed his eyes on her, "Oh, look who's being cheeky today.  Congratulations on not being over the top kinky.  Would you like a round of applause?  Flowers?  Chocolates?"

"I'm not a jilted lover."

"I'd hate to think you were.  Your equipment just doesn't do it for me, sweetheart, and I'd hate to think I couldn't get it up for my gorgeous flatmate.  I feel like that could negatively impact our stellar relationship."

Harry scoffed, and Irial smirked even as Rosie kicked his shin under the table.  He laughed, the hit barely even stinging.

"I'd hate to think I murdered mine, but I'm almost at that point," Rosie replied back with a smug smile and a roll of her eyes.  Harry studied the two of them, laughing silently at their weird articulation of affection; Irial wasn't disturbed, just entertained.  This is why he'd asked her to be his flatmate in the first place despite the fact that between the two of them they could make tea, Ramen noodles, and pasta, couldn't manage money for shit, and cleaned with even less skill than they had for managing their limited funds.  Well...the banter and their mutual love of sexy times, parties, and pubs.  She shook her head at him, "Whatever, I'm just saying, if you ever meet someone you actually like _don't_ hook-up with him, you feel me?"

Gaping, Irial shook his head, "But...what?  I mean, Harry and I get along just fine."

The way Harry narrowed his eyes said he seriously doubted that was true.  Irial ignored him, because their dysfunction barely even showed up on the Richter scale..

Rosie rolled her eyes, "Ooh, one out of like a hundred punks you slept with.  Seems legit."  Irial smirked and nodded while Rosie just shook her head and patted Harry's hand, "My Harold just has class."

"Class?  He fucked a law student in my bed and then had him sleep naked on the couch," Irial argued.

Harry looked offended, "I changed the sheets. Besides, where was Rosie supposed to sleep then?"

Irial looked between Harry and Rosie in disbelief.  He loved the two of them, really, truly, just some days he had to convince himself of that.  The pair were weird with each other for sure and had been ever since he'd introduced them to each other first year over English Breakfast tea and Lucky Charms after...well...after having wild drunken sex with him when attending his first rave.  It went beyond co-dependency and spending a ridiculous amount of time together; the pair shared the same bed at least five days out of the week, swapped clothes as if it was all one closet, and ate off each other's plates despite Rosie being one of the biggest germ-o-phobes Irial'd ever met.  It was a tad bit unnatural.  At first he'd simply assumed they were sleeping together until he'd found Harry hooking up with a blonde fashion major during a party with the drama students, now he kind of wished they would just to put his mind at ease and center his world again.  He'd really appreciate it.

He chose not to say that it made a helluva lot more sense for Rosie to have slept on the couch than it was for Harry to kick out his one night stand and change the sheets just so Rosie could sleep in a bed...with Harry.  He didn't, though, because the pair of them were not normal people, wouldn't get it, and he didn't have the energy to explain civilized human rationale to the pair of them today.

Rolling his eyes, Irial replied, "Your Harold just realized my awesomeness was too much to part with and chose to bask in its glow via friendship instead of anything serious.  Isn't that right Potter dear?"

Harry snorted and remarked flatly, "Of course, Irial, I'm sure that's what it was."

Irial waved a hand imperiously while Rosie just raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, and he smirked at her.  Rosie shifted in her seat and took another sip of her coffee, releasing a long sigh and eyeing the door coldly, stopping what would have been a customer from prancing into the coffee shop with just a single glance.  She turned her attention back to Irial, "Why are you in my coffee shop again?"

"I work here too, darling," Irial replied while Rosie eyed him disbelieving.  He glared at her, contrary to popular belief Irial was a good employee, scatterbrained, yes, outspoken, for sure, but he did his job, did it well, and entertained customers at the same time.  People came back to see him and be around him; Irial didn't quite get his so-called 'magnetism' but certainly embraced it seeing as how it had saved his ass from being fired many times before.  He let the insult go, though, and continued, whipping out his phone, "I got an invite!  E-vite?  Whatever."

Rosie's eyes widened dramatically, and she put a hand over her heart, "Oh honey, it only took twenty years but you finally got invited to someone's birthday party!"

Blinking at her, Irial stared at her dryly while she snickered, "You know, you're not funny sometimes."

"I am."

"You're not," Irial shot back with a broad smile and a smug one-shoulder shrug.  "It's alright though.  You have me here to pick up the slack."

"You?"

"Me!"  Irial grinned and waved his hand dismissively, "But let's not talk about how fantastic I am.  Let's talk about how fantastic me got invited to the party of the century at Club Deccord in London."

Harry scowled, "Posh."

"Slag," Irial retorted before pausing to think about that one, reevaluating and correcting himself by saying, " _Hipster_ slag."

"That's not insulting," Harry pointed out.  "That's true."

" _You_ got invited to a party at one of the most upscale, elitist clubs in London?  By who?"

"Morgan McCallum," Irial smirked, taking another sip of his latte and wagging his eyebrows at  Rosie.  "He follows me on Twitter."

Rosie nodded in understanding, "So _Dorian_ got invited to a party at Club Deccord.  I get it now."

Irial cocked his head at her, "I feel like I'm being insulted, but I'm too excited to really care.  You're coming, yes?"

"I hate clubs," Rosie sulked even as Harry mirrored Irial in rolling his eyes at her.  So she said, all the time.  Irial got it, he really did, since he hated crowds and people and the sickly sweet smell of pot that usually accompanied such endeavors.  However, he loved being the center of attention at parties, working people and the room, hooking up and drinking and dancing to music.  The pros outweighed the cons every time.

"Yeah, but you like booze," Irial replied patiently.

"You make me sound like a drunk.  I'm not."

She wasn't.  And neither was Irial, contrary to popular belief.  They both had hedonistic streaks in them, though.

"And dancing.  And dating.  And actually being able to twerk to Kesha without judgment," Irial continued.

Rosie hummed thoughtfully before shrugging, "Alright, I'm in, but I'm letting you know right now, if I wake up to find naked boy on my couch again, I'll be pissed.  And this one isn't getting coffee and Advil either.  He'll be fending for himself in the cold air of September in London with or without his pants."

Irial grinned and raised his cup in agreement, "Cheers, sweetheart."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Club Deccord does not exist, just fyi. I'm not English so...yeah. And as long as money works out I will be attending Middlesex University in the fall XD which is why I put it into this story. Anyway, there it is, the first chapter that has very minimal editing so don't kill me if there are mistakes. I'm really lazy editor with my own work.


	2. "Dirty Love" Kesha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alleys are decidedly not good meeting places. Rosie copes...badly. And Irial totally gets cockblocked and it's probably for the best.

To: chriscrossedmicah@gmail.com.uk  
CC: djkinsey@gmail.com; mustlovedogs@gmail.com.uk; crossesoflead@gmail.com.uk  
From: morgandmccallum@gmail.com.uk  
Subject: Homecoming Party  
Micah,  
Hey mate, welcome back to London.  So your sister asked me if I'd be willing to to do her a favor and throw you lot a homecoming party.  I know how you feel about parties, but she's such a sap and really wants to properly celebrate your triumphant return to the UK. I figured a compromise. I've been bar tending at Deccord and my boss agreed to a little impromptu party in the VIP lounge so you'd be in the club and have your party too, bit of a win-win I thought.  Heads up, though, Em went through you contacts (idk how she got your password) and invited some of the band's mutual friends already.  Not entirely sure who, but she said something about Ani Tiernan and Soren Reid.  Oh, and I'm pretty sure she asked your gf too.  Let me know, it's never too late to cancel.  
Morgan  
  
To: morgandmccallum@gmail.com.uk  
CC: djkinsey@gmail.com.uk; mustlovedogs@gmail.com.uk; crossesoflead@gmail.com.uk  
From: chriscrossedmicah@gmail.com.uk  
Subject: RE: Homecoming Party  
I do actually think there are times that are too late to cancel like two hours before everyone's due to arrive, but I do appreciate the offer.  No, it sounds excellent, definite win.  Not exactly a crazy party I'll have to clean up but still enough so Dominic'll stop whining. And you know how much I love Club Deccord.  
Thanks for curbing Emma, I'm sure she was a nightmare,  
Micah  
  
**Dominic Kinsey (@Nic_Kinsey)**  
Someone values tradition. Thanks @Morgan_McCallum #wasntwhining #micahsmean  
  
**Micah Cross (@MC_Cross)**  
Excited to see @EmmaCross and @Morgan_McCallum tonight #funtimes #noplacelikehome #ClubDeccord #Nicwaswhining  
  
**Irish Rose (@rosieposie)**  
Party At A Rich Dude's House #kesha  
  
**Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
"@rosieposie: Party At A Rich Dude's House #kesha" so...basically this is my life. But who's excited for this party?

* * *

Rosie was twerking, not well, mind you, but she was giving it her best shot even as she persistently downed what had to be her third Cosmo in the last hour and a half.  If he was a better friend, Irial would stop her, but she'd started getting heavy handed with the drinks around the time that some big-breasted, purple-haired punk-rock chick had started whispering in Harry's ear while he bought her drinks.  Quite frankly, Irial didn't have the heart to stop her downward spiral; after all, sobriety took away those beautiful rose-colored glasses that allowed her to twerk with abandon instead of bitterly eyeing the pair so he let it go.

Irial, on the other hand, was buzzed, barely, since _he'd_ paced himself and downed two glasses of water between every girly cocktail he'd shot back at the bar.  Plus he was a poor uni student on a rather small budget, though he'd yet to pay for a single drink between his ongoing flirtation with the bartender and his numerous dance partners, almost all of whom had taken his raunchy grinding and butterfly kisses as some sort of sign that he was looking to sleep with them, which isn't to say he wouldn't just that it had been too early to slip away from a perfectly good party just for a satisfactory one night stand.

Four hours in and he'd flirted shamelessly with every man—gay or straight—he'd come into contact with, had tried almost every drink special on the cocktail menu, and even found Morgan McCallum, the muscled apparently future David Beckham he played football with at Uni, publicly tongue fucking his girlfriend, Emma Cross, who was such a stereotypical Romanchial gypsy Irial almost couldn't take her seriously.  She was all skin, tight clothes, and bling, loud but pretty, over the top and a bit of a hot mess; still, he had to give her credit, the photography major had some serious skill behind the camera if the numerous awards and recognition she was constantly being given was any indication.  Naturally, though, he'd snapped a picture of the pair and posted it up on Instagram and Twitter.

 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
Oh my God my virgin eyes! #keepitinyourpants #getaroom

 **Elisabeth Mann (@lisamanup)**  
@Morgan_McCallum apparently can't wait to get some. Patience, children, patience

 **Alex Haymer (@KittylikestheFishy)**  
lmfao @DorianII if you have virgin eyes, I like pussy

 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
@KittylikestheFishy lies vicious lies. I'm sort of virginal if you catch me

 **Kayla Moulson (@rosesarered)**  
@DorianII hahaha im dying #notavirgin

 **Abraham Cross (@AbeMattiasCross)**  
@EmmaCross im telling mom

On Emma's behalf, Irial grimaced, looking up from the screen of his phone, eyes sliding across the room and coming to land on Rosie, eyes glazed, a sheen layer of sweat already covering her skin from being packed in so tightly and dancing so hard.  Even as the song shifted from "Dirty Love" by Kesha and over to "We Can't Stop" by Miley Cyrus, her twerking didn't even pause.  Unable to resist, Irial flipped over to take a quick Keek of the action, even as he made sure not to catch her face in the frame.

He chuckled, "I don't know about you, but I always thought twerking should be left to the professionals.  Proof enough right there."  Irial uploaded the video, linking it to his Twitter before finishing the last of his Long Island Iced Tea and dropping a tip for the bartender in the tip jar.  Eyes lingering on Rosie so he didn't lose her, Irial slid his cell phone in his pocket and sidled up to Harry, throwing an arm around his neck and standing on his tiptoes to whisper in his ear.  "I'm going to take a smoke.  Keep an eye on Rosie."

Harry tore his gaze away from the girl in front of him and looked down at Irial, concern written all over his face, "She's smashed?"

"If by smashed, you mean drinking her weight in Cosmos and twerking nonstop and barefoot to Miley Cyrus, the answer is her liver's on life support and she makes Lindsey Lohan look sober."

Cursing, Harry nodded at Irial, preoccupied, eyes already scanning the crowd to find her.  Job done, Irial peeled himself away from Harry without sparing his would-be hook up a glance.  Little chance of that now, Rosie wasn't exactly a 'bad' drunk but she wasn't a good one either; the first time she'd ever gotten drunk with Irial he'd wandered around the club, wasted, for nearly two hours before he found her sitting in on the floor at the end of the hallway under a water fountain between the two bathrooms, knees pulled up to her chest and eyes staring unfocused.  She was basically catatonic.  He doesn't even remember how they got home.

Irial wove through the crowd, the one time he can ever take advantage of his almost dwarfish stature, and down a narrow hallway.  Even in the back, the bass of the music was heavy, boisterous, raucous, its beat palpable.  He startled and danced aside as the girl's bathroom door flew open and a gaggle of girls dressed in short, tight cocktail dresses and stilettos come barreling out, giggling and excited.  Behind them, he caught a glimpse of a row of even more girls standing in front of the mirror fixing their hair, their makeup, their boobs; he rolled his eyes and continued on as the door slammed shut.

As long as he lived, he'd never understand girls, which Harry and Rosie both thought was hilarious.  As if being gay meant that he somehow had to have an innate understanding of color coordination and an adamant love of Burberry (not that Burberry _wasn't_ fantastic but still).  He might like dick, but that didn't necessarily turn him into Michael Kors.  The most he'd contributed during his sister's shopping trip for some primary school ball was that her dress looked 'really blue', which really couldn't get anymore noncommittal if he tried.  Makeup wasn't his cup of tea.  High heels looked like torture devices or the greatest secret weapon a woman could have in their arsenal.  Unless an outfit was just unbelievably horrendous, he didn't care what brand, pattern, or color it was.  And no, he didn't style hair; that's why his was just long enough to brush into his eyes when wet and not a centimeter longer than that.

Harry liked to tease him about being a failure at being a flamboyant homosexual, but Harry was certainly not one to talk since he was a bisexual Hipster with every Apple product ever invented, a walking stereotype if there ever was one.  Irial—and Rosie, for that matter—simply didn't like to live up to expectation.  Irial played football on the Uni team (in rainbow cleats, mind you, but still), didn't talk fashion with the girls like a token gay friend (unless it was about how awful someone else's was), and didn't scream clean-cut metrosexual if you didn't know otherwise.

Actually, he was pretty unkempt.  His wispy, honey-colored hair did whatever it wanted to, stuck up however it wanted to, which was why beyond a small patch of fringe, most of it disappeared underneath a beanie anyway.  Irial was scruffy, stubbly, partially because he just didn't have the time and partially because it helped him look like less of a child.  Though, he did, admittedly, like in skinny jeans and plaid Speries.  Either way, the rest of him was all sarcastic t-shirt, open button-ups, and the occasional Henley.  He figured that if he managed to get up and clothe himself, that alone should be good enough for the world, and, up until this point in his life, it seemed to be.

Irial paused at the putrid scent of marijuana, wrinkling his nose even as he tilted his head, looking around for where it was coming from.  His eyes landed on a cracked open door, and he doubled back, slipping out through the door and into an alleyway behind the club.  The group of potheads stood further down the alley, blissfully passing the joint amongst themselves, and Irial rolled his eyes, stepping out into the fresh, open air of the alley only for his foot to collide with something squishy and solid, the momentum sending him flying when a pair of warm hands grab his waist and pulled him back flesh against a warm but hard body, steadying him.

His rescuer (and tripper) cleared his throat, and Irial tilted his head back, looking up at the man's shadowed face with narrowed eyes to find him blushing.  "Sorry," the man said his voice throaty and deep, unexpected but yet not wholly.  The guy was gorgeous but obviously young, not a day over eighteen Irial would guess and reminiscent of a young Heath Ledger but stretched out, taller and ganglier, with wavy chocolate hair that nearly fell to his shoulders and these deep, piercing tawny eyes that glimmer even in the dark.  He was all muscle too despite appearance, which Irial can feel because he's still pressed to against the stranger, not that his body seemed to mind all that much, but he should.

"Alright," Irial said slowly, looking down to where the guy's hands are still holding tightly to Irial waist, keeping him pressed against the stranger's rock hard body.

Immediately, the guy let go like he'd burned himself, and Irial stepped away, missing the warmth of his body but way more concerned with his mental state.  He turned, putting space between them and studying the blushing teenager while pulling out a pack of cigarettes.  Taking out one, he offered it to the stranger, cautiously, "Smoke?"

The kid blinked and shook his head, "Oh, I don't..."

"Right," Irial replied, sticking the pack in his pocket and lighting the cigarette.  He checked the kid out, blatantly, smirking as he took a drag and noted the way the kid shifted under Irial's gaze but didn't actually move, blushing deepening.  "You're a Hipster," Irial said by way of explanation.

"I think I'd actually prefer Indie," he responded awkwardly.

Irial shrugged and smiled impishly, "Maybe, but that's yet to be determined hasn't it?"   

"Sorry," the kid blurted abruptly.

Laughing, Irial nodded, "You said that already.  What are you doing out here anyway? Not smoking, not stealing, not dumpster diving..."   

"Dumpster diving?"  He spoke, a surprised smile lighting up his face, "Does that happen often?"

"I have no idea.  I'm a good boy," Irial replied smoothly, smirking.

Quirking an eyebrow, the kid's gaze trailed over Irial lazily, intently, heatedly, from his eyes, over his t-shirt and skinny jeans to his Vans and then back up again, slow and heated like he had all the time in the world to check out guys he almost killed in an alley behind a club.  His eyes met Irial's, smoldering, his voice dropping and taking on a husky edge as he replied, "I don't believe that."

Swallowing, Irial took another long drag on his cigarette, begging his libido to calm down. before looking back at the stranger, "Well, at least in respect to hanging out in alleys."

He nodded and stepped closer to Irial, swallowing the distance between them too quickly for Irial's comfort and humming thoughtfully, "So you don't often meet boys in alleys, then?"

_None like you._

Irial cocked his head and dropped his cigarette, stamping it out underfoot as his gaze roved over the boy's body and up to his blazing golden eyes as he steps closer, pressing them chest to chest, "I'll admit it's happened once or twice, but that's one reputation I certainly don't need.  What would my mother think?"

"You're trying to save the planet?"

"Rescuing them from the streets and all that?"  The boy smiled and nodded, still too close, heat too much, messing with Irial's head a little.  Normally, he'd just fuck the foreplay, grab him by the back of the neck, and pull him into a hungry kiss that would set Irial's whole body on fire and would rid him of the tingling throughout his person that screamed for how much it just wants this kid.  But he didn't and he can't because the kid's adorable and charming and barely looks legal, especially when he bit his bottom lip and nodded at Irial's words.  Irial reached up without thinking, pulling the kid's lip from his teeth with way too much intensity and looking up to meet his eyes as he said, "Makes me sound like a right creep."

The kid huffed out a laugh, "Are you?"

"Are _you_?"  Irial shot back, thumb skimming along the kid's bottom lip without his conscious permission to do so, "You still haven't told me what you're doing out here, love."

Sighing, he took a step back, looking down at his feet, and Irial exhaled shakily, quietly, a little overwhelmed, rocking back on his heels and watching the kid carefully.  He squints at the toe of his boots, "Hiding?"

"Are you asking me?"

"No...yes?  I don't know.  Got tired of the crowd, I guess, the attention.  It all gets to be a bit much sometimes, doesn't it?"  He looked down at his shoes, a self-deprecating smile on his face.  Irial blinked, hesitating because...what?  This kid went from zero to sixty in _milliseconds_.  Irial was more than a bit lost, but the kid continued, "I love it, though.  I do.  I should, right?  I shouldn't complain?"

"I feel like this is no longer about the club, in which case, love, I have no idea what you're talking about."

His head shot up, and he blinked at Irial in surprise, "Really, none?"

"Should I?" Irial hedged carefully.

"Don't you?"

Irial shook his head.  The kid might look like sex on legs, but clearly his mental state needed intense evaluation, "You come across as a tad bit mental, you know that?"

A wide grin spread across the kids face, "I'm Crispin."   

"Are you on Acid?  Actually...were your parents when they gave you that name?"

Crispin shook his head, still smiling and not the slightest bit offended, "Am I _allowed_ to have your name?"   

"I don't think that's a good idea."   

"Am I allowed to have your number?"

"I _really_ don't think _that's_ a good idea.  Are you even legal?"   

"Of course, I'm eighteen, how else would I have gotten into the club?"  Crispin offered cheerfully, once against stepping into Irial's personal space, this time, though, his hands caught Irial's waist, pulling him closer and pressing their bodies together.  Irial's breathing stuttered, but he kept himself calm, hands to himself.  Crispin bowed his head, lips brushing against the shell of Irial's ears as Crispin whispered, "You live in London...?"   

"Irial," he filled in automatically,  He shifted, only succeeding in sliding their bodies against each other, and he inhaled sharply, closing his eyes and resting his head against Crispin's chest, digging for restraint he hadn't used in two years.  Crispin slipped a finger underneath Irial's t-shirt, calloused pad of his thumb, sliding over the smooth skin of Irial's hip; he took a steadying breath, who even was this kid?  "Yes, sort of, I'm studying here?"   

"Are you asking _me_?" Crispin responded cheekily.   

Irial's lips quirked in a slight smile, "Cheeky.  You're an absolute menace, you know that?"  Crispin laughed, and Irial smiled, shaking his head.  His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he didn't step away from Crispin as he pulled out his phone.

 **Harry:** Rosie's wasted. Going home. Where r u?    

Shaking his head, Irial put his hands on Crispin's chest, trying to push him away, "I've got to go be a good friend and all that."   

Crispin nodded but whispered, "Please let me have your number?"   

"No," Irial laughed breathily, "something tells me that would be a really bad idea."   

Pulling away slightly, Cripsin frowned down at Irial before a look of determination passed over him, "If I find you again can I have it?"   

Shaking his head, Irial looked up at Crispin, "You've watched Serendipity one too many times.  In the real world, you can't find someone knowing only the city they live in and their first name.  It's not possible, especially someone like me who believes the best way to live life is anonymously."   

Crispin tilted his head and studied Irial before smiling impishly, "Then it shouldn't be a problem, should it?"   

Laughing, Irial poked Crispin's stomach and nodded, "Alright you, fine.  _If_ you can find me again, you can have my number, but I highly doubt you will, love."  Irial patted his cheek and  walked around him over to the door, ignoring the persistent vibrating of his phone in his back pocket.  Harry was going to rip him a new one for making them wait on Irial when Rosie was this drunk; at the door, he glanced back at Crispin who'd turned to watch Irial leave, eyes still smoldering; Irial smirked, "Best of luck."   

"Nice arse," Crispin retorted.   

Irial laughed and shook his head, ducking back into the hallway.  His lips curled into a smile with far too much amusement as he murmured fondly, "What a little shit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually surprisingly happy with this chapter. Every chapter will start out with the social media comments that also help to determine when there are time jumps (especially for when there are big ones).


	3. "(I Can't) Forget About You" R5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irial gets a crash course in boybandology. Crispin plays nursemaid and gets some fail encoruagement.

**Irish Rose (@rosieposie)**  
I almost die of alcohol poisoning and you don't even get laid? @DorianII worst friend ever  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
Great party at #ClubDeccord but now everyone in this flat is sexually frustrated #horny #needtogetlaid  
  
 **Zachary Tenesco (@MakesAPorno)**  
@DorianII need a helping hand with that ;)  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
@MakesAPorno you'd have to find me first but right now I'd even do a chick  
  
 **Kacey Simpson (@butterflykisses_99)**  
@DorianII yes please ;)  
  
  
 **Breaking Fourth's Blowout Homecoming**  
Only a day after returning to London after a three month North American tour, the four Brit popstars said hello by partying it up with pals until three in the morning at posh London Club Deccord.  Micah Cross was seen catching up with sister, Emma Cross, attending university nearby as well as "canoodling" with longtime girlfriend, Jocelyn Penderghast, a London socialite and on-the-rise designer.  Benji Irving, meanwhile, was spotted trying out his raunchier dance moves with "UK's Kesha" singer/songwriter and well-known party girl, Ani Tiernan.  Dominic Kinsey, according to patrons, spent most of the night drinking and chatting up girls before being escorted home in the wee hours of the morning by friend and bandmate, Cris Emerson.  And speaking of the sexy youngest member, he was his usual flirty self, getting cozy with supermodel, Lavonne, while chatting with close friend and Lancashire singer/songwriter, Soren Reid.  It seems, though, that both Lavonne and Cris disappeared a few hours into the party and only Cris returned to the party nearly an hour later appearing "hot and bothered" say sources.  Oh, Cris, what are you getting up to now?  Guess we'll have to wait and see.  
  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
Keep on a straight line, I don't believe I can.  Trying to find a needle in a haystack.  Chilly wind you're piercing like a dagger.

* * *

"So you didn't sleep with him?"  Rosie inquired for about the hundredth time in the last fifteen minutes, no longer even pretending to type her short story on her laptop despite the fact that it was due in her professor's inbox in less than forty-five minutes.  It hardly mattered, though; Rosie was that annoying bitch who could get away with procrastinating, turning in absolute shit last minute, and being rewarded with a sparkling A plus.   

Irial almost wished she still had a hangover.  At least that way, she'd still be lounging in bed cursing the world and ordering Harry to bring her chamomile tea and Advil.   

Speaking of Harry, he looked up from the textbook open across his lap and blinked at Rosie, shaking his head, "He already said that."   

"Yeah, I know," Rosie snapped, "I'm just still caught on the 'why?'"   

"Because I'm not a slut?"  Irial offered, highlighting a line in his textbook and blindly reaching out to grasp his mug.   

Rosie pursed her lips and cocked her head in his direction, studying him, "No, that's not it."   

Irial huffed and flipped her the bird.  Rosie laughed and turned back to her short story while Irial looked up and met Harry's curious, searching gaze, "What Potter?"   

Harry shrugged and looked back down at his notebook.  Irial scowled and poked Harry's shoulder with his toe.  Rolling his eyes, Harry swatted Irial foot away from him, but Irial countered by hitting his friend's head with the instep of his foot.  Rosie curled up her lip in disgust, and Irial cackled, sticking his tongue out at her.  Harry sighed and scooted across the floor away from the couch and Irial's feet, "Irial, I think I'm proud of you.  For not sleeping with mystery guy I mean."   

"His name's _Crispin_ ," Rosie teased with a smile.   

Irial snorted, "God, who hates their child that much?"   

"Let's not cast stones, _Irial_ ," Rosie replied.   

"At least, I've got the name of a badass Unseelie faery who eventually becomes chaos embodied and manages a relationship with his successor and their mutual girlfriend—"   

" _Wicked Lovely_ , really?" Rosie gave him a disbelieving look.  Harry just shook his head at Irial's choice of a literary reference.   

Irial went on as if he hadn't heard.   

"—he's got the name of the bastard child of poor serf whose married father tried to kill him and ends up running away with...that bearded ginger guy," Irial pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, thinking about that one.   

Harry tossed a Skittle at Irial's head, and it hit his cheek, drawing his narrowed eyed gaze to Harry, "Did you even read that book?"   

"What?  _Crispin: Cross of Lead_?  Who didn't read that book?  It was good, but that was a long time ago.  And it's boring, one of those one time reads, you know?  Like _Chronicles of Narnia_ ," Rosie choked on a laugh, and Irial fought a smile, "or the _Night Circus_ or that one about domestic abuse...the glorified fanfiction?"   

"You read _Shades of Grey_?" Harry shook his head in pity and disgust.   

Irial flipped him off, "So did you."   

"The _Night Circus_ was fantastic," Rosie cried.  "One time read, blasphemy!"   

Rolling his head on the arm of the sofa, Irial stared at her flatly, "You're quite dramatic, you know that?"  Rosie waved a hand dismissively, not even bothering to address that comment while Irial turned back to his required reading and answering Rosie's previous question, "Besides, I decided to take your advice or whatever.  I liked him.  He was quite charming if a little unstable.  Sexy as hell though.  Fucking beautiful."   

Harry nodded, "So proud."   

The tone wasn't sarcastic, but Irial tilted his head and studied Harry a moment before deciding that, regardless, that's exactly what the comment was, "Shut up."   

"Shit!" Rosie exclaimed suddenly, sitting up and reading something over on her computer screen.  Irial watched her with raised eyebrows, wondering if everybody he knew was crazy.  It made sense seeing as how he could hardly be considered sane about ninety percent of the time; she reached over for her tablet, hastily looking something up, "Oh my God, Ash's gonna be so jealous if this is true.  I can't believe Breaking Fourth's back and no one's gushed about it yet."   

"I though you were supposed to be working on your assignment," Harry mused.   

Rosie shrugged, "I only need one more paragraph before I can send it in, no problem."   

Irial narrowed his eyes at Rosie, "Breaking Fourth?"   

Rosie shook her head, a smug grin spreading across her face, "Ash's gonna explode. It's true."   

"What's wrong with Ashleigh?" Harry frowned.   

"That club we were at three nights ago?  Breaking Fourth was there at the same time. And I was too smashed to realize it, but Dominic Kinsey bought me a drink."  Irial looked between Harry's look of surprise and Rosie's smug smile as she sent her friend from home a text message.  Rosie seemed to realize something though and paused, looking up at Irial, "You don't know about Breaking Fourth? I got a crash course on like day one."   

Irial made a face at her.  _What an utterly unhelpful explanation._   

Harry answered, "UK boyband, _really_ big, internationally famous.  Their third album went double platinum in like a week, debuted number one on iTunes charts worldwide. Bit of a big deal, to be honest."   

"Another telly turnout, huh?" Irial mused, and Harry shrugged but didn't disagree.  Irial sighed tiredly and looked over at Rosie, "And you're like...a fan or something?"   

"No!" Rosie paused, thought that over and shook her head, "Well...yes, sort of, it's a boyband so 'fan' is kind of a relative word.  I'm not like obsessed, and I'm not gonna hyperventilate if I see them on the street, but some of their music is like half-way decent so...I guess?"   

"And they're attractive," Harry pointed out.   

Giving a decisive nod, Rosie echoes the sentiment, "And they're attractive."  Irial must have looked unconvinced; Rosie sighed and tossed her tablet at him, which he caught unsteadily, smirking at her as her whole body tensed.  _Like he'd drop_ her _electronic device_.   

Irial looked down at the tablet, eyes roving over the article's attached images.  The first was a familiar figure, Emma Cross, standing next to her drop-dead, disgustingly attractive boyfriend, Morgan McCallum, smiling widely at a figure who looked too much like her for them to be anything but related.  He looked every bit the Romanichal gypsy he was, unusually tanned for an Englishman, dark hair and eyes, but stocky, brolic, attractive, hair cut short; his arm was slung around the shoulders of a figure that Irial didn't recognize, dramatic short cinnamon brown hair and svelte, draped head-to-toe in Chanel.  The label underneath dubbing the pair "Micah Cross and girlfriend, Jocelyn Penderghast."   

The next picture held at least one person that Irial recognized, the natural blonde but blue streaked hot mess that was Ani Tiernan, the Irish born singer and self-professed wild child.  She tended to bring Kesha's lyrical antics to life.  Her scantily clad body was wrapped audaciously around a guy with golden blond hair and strong jawline, average height but fit, strong, and possessing the athletic build of someone who's spent their life playing sports.  By the time Irial reached the picture of Dominic Kinsey, he had to admit that Harry and Rosie might have a point about them all being stupidly attractive; Dominic Kinsey is no exception with a mop of overgrown light brown hair in desperate need of a stylist and a lanky build that would make him look like some cross between Christofer Drew and Jordan Witigreuter right down to the muted, dreadfully faded skinny jeans and button-up shirt.   

The last picture froze him.  There's no way he wouldn't recognize Crispin, all golden-eyed, long-limbed, and muscled in jeans that were almost as tight as Irial's and studded boots that didn't quite match the tank top that revealed too much of his lightly tanned skin, not to mention the vest and blazer.  The kid looked every bit the Hipster mess on film that he seemed to be in person, even more so with an internationally famous supermodel perched on his lap.  (Even Irial knew who Lavonne was).  He whirled around the tablet.   

"This kid's in the band?"   

Rosie raised an eyebrow, "Cris Emerson?  Little flirt.  Yeah.  Why?"   

Harry blinked, looking between the picture and Irial's face as he struggled to make sense of his life; naturally, it clicked for Harry first, "Cris Emerson's full name is Crispin.  Tell me that's not..." he trailed off at Irial's desperate look.  Rosie floundered, mouth opening and then closing, unsure of exactly what to say.  Harry took a deep breath and nodded, glancing over at Rosie, "Well...okay."   

_Yeah...not really._

* * *

Soren perched on the counter precariously, guitar in hand, strumming along to the Ed Sheeran song blasting over the radio; Cris barely spared him a glance as he dropped a plate of eggs and French toast in front of Dominic who'd only just crawled out of Cris's guest bedroom thirty minutes ago after some bad judgment and way too many bottles of Tequila for any living being to imbibe.   

Dominic glanced over at Soren with a pained expression on his face, "That necessary?"   

"I'm serenading you, mate," Soren retorted evenly, not even sparing the nineteen year old popstar a look as he played along.   

Wrinkling his nose in response, Dominic glanced down at the food on his plate as Cris poured orange juice into a glass for both himself and Dominic.  The teen's eyes darted up to frown at Cris as he briskly moved to shut the orange juice back into the refrigerator, "Cris, it's almost supper time."   

Cris shrugged, "Seeing as how you only woke up an hour ago, it hardly matters."  He put the juice down beside Dominic's hand and raised his eyebrows at him, "Drink."   

"Is there alcohol in this?"   

"God no," Cris replied.  "Alcohol is the last thing you need."   

"You might be right," Dominic murmured as he gulped down the whole glass, smiling sheepishly at Cris who only rolled his eyes and offered Dominic his own glass in replacement.  He smiled thankfully before digging into the meal.  "Who has a hangover two days in a row?"   

"The genius who actually believes drinking more alcohol is a magic cure to a hangover," Cris replied with a cheeky smile, leaning back against the fridge, watching Dominic carefully.  "You feel alright, mate?"  

"Better than yesterday."   

"I'd imagine so."   

Dominic's eyes darted back to Soren, "What's the prat doing here?"   

Soren glanced up at Dominic and smiled, shaking his head, unbothered, "Healing you with the power of song."   

"It's not working," Dominic said shortly.   

Cris shook his head and tilted his head to look over at Soren, "Excellent question, Nic.  what exactly are you doing here?"   

"Interrogating you," Soren answered.   

Dominic and Cris shared a confused look, and Dominic shook his head, "Excellent interrogation techniques, I must say.  Perhaps we should give you to the Americans.  I hear their interrogation techniques are equally effective."   

Soren slammed his hand down on the countertop, and Dominic winced, glaring at his friend who only smirked, "Whoops, forgot.  Sorry."   

Rolling his eyes at the pair of them, Cris reached into his fridge and pulled out a water bottle, cracking it open and taking several swallows before pressing, "What's this about?"   

"The Tweet, mate."   

Cris winced, and Dominic sat up straight, looking between the pair of them, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.  Since he'd spent the two days since their welcome home party drifting from drunk to hungover and back again, he'd missed Cris's ill-advised lyric Tweet.  While he'd managed to shrug off both Benji and Micah's questions as just him being maudlin and developing his musical palate, Soren wouldn't be so easy.  Soren, quite frankly, just saw too much to be dissuaded by Cris's half-truths, which is probably why he'd come over.  Cris was a shit liar period but in person he was just downright pathetic.   

"I know you too well, mate.  Despite what everyone else thinks, I know that you don't just skip through your playlist and Tweet random lyrics that you like.  Everything you Tweet has a point.  Who's the girl?"   

Without reacting, Cris took another long swallow of water, watching Dominic blink in confusion, eyes darting between the two, confused.  Cris shook his head, "There's no girl."   

Soren's eyes narrowed, but it was true.   

There was no girl.   

There was a guy, though, a guy with a diluted Scouse accent and slight rasp to his voice who made everything sound either sarcastic or biting until he got so turned on that keeping with that just wasn't possible anymore.  A guy that was barely 5'4" with feathery honey blonde hair that fell every which way, a 5 o'clock shadow, and sharp stormy gray eyes.  A guy who'd showed up to one of the most posh clubs in London in vintage gray skinny jeans, an open flannel shirt, and checkered Vans, his #sorrynotsorry shirt unapologetically addressing the world with the same "fuck you" attitude he projected in spades.  A guy who smoked and banged in alleys  behind clubs without being shy about doing either, who demanded answers to his questions and made fun of his name and had absolutely no idea who he was, which even Crispin could admit was the biggest cliche in the world but had still turned him on regardless.   

A guy whose name meant "elf" in Celtic (absolutely made for Irial in that case as far as Cris was concerned) and that he'd probably never see again, though not for lack of trying.  

Irial might have had a point when he'd said that you can't find someone in London with only the knowledge that they're studying somewhere in the London area and their first name, unique though it may be.  Cris hadn't completely given up hope yet seeing as how he'd been too busy nursing one of his best friends back to health to fully devote himself to finding Irial, but he wasn't exactly confident.  That realization was a bit depressing.   

Soren's eyes lit with understanding, darting to Dominic before going back to Cris, "You sleep with 'im?"   

Cris scowled, pouting, "No.  I didn't even get a number."   

"Name?"   

"First."   

"Ah," Soren said in understanding, shaking his head and smirking at Cris.  "You're never gonna find 'im, mate."   

"I am," Cris nodded, determined.   

Soren smiles at him and shook his head, "Good luck to you mate."   

Dominic looked between the two, utterly lost, "Wait...what?  You're looking for someone?"   

Soren raised his eyebrows at Cris who turned back to Dominic, smiling kindly, "Coffee or tea...or more food since you've finished?"   

"How about some insight on what the hell is going on?"  Dominic tried.   

Cris smiled at his friend and shook his head, "That wasn't one of your options.  Now, coffee, tea, or food?"  Soren laughed while Dominic sighed, wrinkling his nose at Cris.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song from Cris's tweet is "Looking For Someone" by Genesis. And, yeah, stuff happens. Whoo, chapter three isn't my favorite but it does bring up some necessary introductions. Also, if you were wondering, Rosie's pansexual and Harry's bisexual. I can't remember whether I mentioned that. It sure makes their flat interesting.


	4. "If You Seek Amy" Britney Spears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visit to family takes an interesting turn. Irial calls out celebs on the radio and may or may not think Cris is a slut.

**Micah Cross (@MC_Cross)**  
@EmmaCross is a working girl now @breakingfourth should drop in to see her at work...hmm...  
  
 **Text Message from Rosie to Irial**  
 **Rosie:** Get up  
 **Rosie:** Im gonna kill u  
 **Rosie:** if ur not up im selling ur laptop on ebay  
 **Rosie:** IRIAL MACKENZIE DORIAN GREYSON!!!  
 **Rosie:** death death death  
 **Rosie** : im changing the locks  
 **Rosie** : im banning alcohol  
 **Rosie** : and partying  
 **Rosie:** and clubbing  
 **Rosie:** and sex  
 **Rosie** : u have 5 min fucker  
 **Irial** : Up. Moving. On my way.  
 **Rosie** : Ur on my shit list  
 **Irial** : <3  
  
 **Nicola C. Krause (@nic_cola)**  
@DorianII so excited for #dorianspeaks  
  
 **Emma Cross (@EmmaCross)**  
@nic_cola @Morgan_McCallum fuck I'm working. Record it? #dorianspeaks #luvyouforever #prettyplease  
  
 **Jessica Vecks (@Jessie_belieber4evr)**  
I'm like hyperventilating waiting to hear @DorianII sexy ass voice #dorianspeaks #sexy  
  
 **Conor James Oakley (@cj_oakley)**  
who else would totally fangirl if they met @DorianII? #dorianspeaks #mancrush #sorrynotsorry  
  
 **Harold Benton-Sterling (@HaroldBSterling)**  
@rosieposie apparently @DorianII can turn straight men gay (cc: @cj_oakley) #dorianspeaks #sorrynotsorry  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
In studio...late. Oops. Sorry @rosieposie but who's ready for #dorianspeaks?

* * *

Cris liked diners.  They were cute, warm, not even a little pretentious because they were too damn homey to even attempt it.   

The diner where Micah's sister had started working at the beginning of term was no different, all cheery and pastel, decidedly not very British, though that was probably because the American themed diner was actually owned and run by an American transplant, which, come to think of it, may have been the only reason that the rather flamboyant Romanichal had managed to land and obtain a position as a server only a couple weeks into term.   

Dominic sat across from Cris, cross-legged in the booth and playing some sort of video game on his cell phone, cursing every time Benji jostled his arm and snickered as his character died for about the hundredth time.  Micah, beside Cris, kept sneaking pictures of his sister as she walked by, posting them up on Instagram and tagging her, knowing full and well she'd bite his head off when she next checked her phone and found out.  Cris just pressed himself in the corner, helping out Benji every so often and kicking Dominic for distraction as he read over the list of universities and higher education centers operating in the London area, which was...a lot more than he was expecting.   

Unfortunate.   

"Hi, my name's Emma Cross, how can I...oh my God!"  Emma squealed when she finally looked up from her pad to see the four of them sitting in a booth and grinning at her.   

Micah held up his camera and snapped a picture before she could even adjust her shocked facial expression.   

Emma blinked before looking down at her brother and making a grab his cell phone, "Micah Christopher, that picture better not end up anywhere public!"  She snatched the cell from his hands while he cackled evilly.   

Cris's phone vibrated in hand, and he frowned, clicking on the Twitter link and bursting out laughing at Emma's look of open surprise captioned with:

 **Micah Cross (@MC_Cross)**  
@EmmaCross seems a little surprised to see us @Cris_Emerson @BenjiDIrving @Nic_Kinglsey  
  
Offering her a glimpse of the screen, Emma stared at the image for a moment before swatting her brother in the back of head, repeatedly while he curled in on himself, hefting up his shoulders and trying to protect his head from most of the blows.   

"Oi!  Cross, stop assaulting the customers!"  The manager yelled to her good-naturedly, laughing.   

"But he's being an arse!"  Emma retorted.   

The manager considered that before replying, "Then hit him harder!  You hit like a girl!"   

Huffing, Emma tossed the manager the stink-eye before turning back to face the table, hands on her hips and eyes narrowed on Micah dangerously.  Cris, Benji, and Dominic smothered their laughter behind their hands.   

Emma Cross, like all the females in the Cross family, was a spitfire in the way that most of the boys just weren't.  That isn't to say that the men were wet blankets or anything, just a hell of lot less up in your face than the womenfolk.  A lot less flamboyant too.  Cris hated to stereotype, but Emma, Macy, and Patricia Cross lived up to every modern day gypsy stereotype that existed.  She might be beautiful, exotic even given her naturally darker complexion, dark hair, and big chocolate eyes, statuesque if a little to thin and willowy, the girl embodied the word drama.  She'd gotten in more fights than Cris cared to think about, enjoyed wearing as little clothing as humanly possible that was decked out in rhinestones and glitter, and had had life goals that summed up to marriage and children at eighteen up until she'd gotten engaged to Morgan McCallum, who'd followed in Micah's footsteps and headed for university instead of more typical gypsy jobs, encouraging Emma to try that too.   

Her heavily made up eyes widened as she realized that they were in public and leaned down to whisper, "How have you not gotten mobbed yet?"   

Dominic grinned up at her, "Luck."   

Cris nodded, "A _lot_ of luck."   

Humming thoughtfully, Emma nodded and straightened, "So what can I do you for?"   

Dominic opened mouth to make a crack about that, and Cris shook his head.  But Benji whacked him, hard, shutting him up before he shared whatever inane innuendo he'd managed to think up about Micah's sister.  The boys placed their orders, watching as Emma disappeared back into the kitchen, all of their eyes going to Micah who pretended to wipe away a tear.   

"I'm so proud."   

"And so dead," Cris said, "once she realizes just how many pictures of her that are being shared amongst Breakers worldwide."   

Micah made a pained face, and Benji laughed, "Nice call there, mate."   

"She's gonna rip my face off with her bedazzled nails," Micah lamented.   

Cris patted his arm comfortingly while Dominic scoffed, "You'll be lucky if that's all she does."   

Cris glanced up, smiling warmly and widely at a little girl staring at the four them with wide eyes over the edge of the booth.  She squeaked when she saw him, ducking down and disappearing from view.  He bit his lip, looking back down at his phone and shaking his head.   

Despite being so close to a college campus, coming to a diner at midday meant that they didn't encounter quite as many fans as usual.  They'd certainly gotten some wide-eyed looks, but most of the people both in the diner and on campus had places to be and no time to stop and grab photos and autographs.  Mostly, they'd run into smaller kids who listened to their music and had come up shyly to ask for pictures and autographs with apologetic but accommodating mothers.  They'd all become some used to the stares and random photos of themselves that the two girls in a corner booth barely even registered, neither did their security, just a regular, everyday part of the landscape.   

"Aww," Dominic cooed, "Cris loves the kids."   

"Kids are great," Cris grinned at Dominic, looking back up and making a funny face for the little girl when she peeked up again, beaming when she giggled and ducked back to hide.   

Benji rolled his eyes at Cris, "You're so domestic, mate.  It's disgusting."   

"According to the press, I'm an incorrigible flirt and insatiable manwhore.  You should keep your daughters away from me."   

Laughing, Benji shrugged, "Good thing I don't have any."   

"Cris is already off with the SAT words.  Mate, you know I don't speak smart," Dominic joked.   

"I'm not fluent in stupid so we'll need an interpreter," Cris replied, and both of them turned to look at Micah with a smile.   

Micah pursed his lips and glaned between the two of them, "I quite feel like I've been insulted."  He turned to look at Benji, "Have I?"   

"I think so," Benji mused; he turned to Dominic and Cris, "Does that mean he's stupid and smart or just average?  And what does that make me?"   

"The love of my life?"  Dominic suggested, batting his eyes at Benji playfully.   

"Inconsequential?" Cris grinned as Benji swatted Dominic's forehead and flipped off Cris in one smooth motion.   

Benji huffed, "Why do I hang out with you morons again?"   

"Because no one else loves and understands you," Micah said patiently.   

Looking heavenward, Benji shook his head, "I can change."   

"Well, I can't," Dominic spoke, waggling his eyebrows.  "You can't change perfection."   

Cris cocked his head at Dominic, "That makes no sense mate.  Where did you even get that?"   

Emma carefully headed their direction, a tray of steaming plate in hand, and the boys all leaned back, pulling their phones off the table so that she could set down the food.  A loud exclamation startled Emma, all the boys cringing at the cry of, "Oh my God!"   

All five of them stilled, tense and frozen, waiting and used to those kinds of exclamations being followed by a horde of pushy, fangirl-ing teens with phones and cameras and questions, but surprisingly, the follow-up to that exclamation was, "Did he _seriously_ just say that?  I fucking love this kid, I really do."   

The four boys raised their eyebrows at each other, tension slowly draining from their bodies, and Emma breathed, nodding in understanding as she set their food down on their tables.  They looked to her questioningly, and she shrugged, "Happens all the times during the weekdays.  Don't worry about it when it happens again.  It's not about you lot."   

"Because _that's_ what we wanted...reassurance," Micah gave his sister a disbelieving look.   

"Not why a girl was randomly freaking out in the middle of a diner during the lunch shift," Benji continued with feigned dismissal.   

Emma sighed, "It's Dorian."   

"Dorian...?" Dominic hummed thoughtfully before saying, "Nope, not familiar, please go on."   

"Dorian Grey II—"   

"Like the novel by Oscar Wilde?"  Cris asked, puzzled.  He vaguely remembered reading the book about a man following his friend's hedonistic philosophy and trying to remain young forever only to realize in the end that he'd basically destroyed his life, degraded his soul, and achieved nothing...cheerful.   

Emma nodded, "Yeah, he's a bit of a local celebrity around campus.  Sounds like sex on legs, that boy...or so we assume.  Gay as the day is long, for sure, but I'd have sex with him anyway...hell, I'd have sex with his voice.  Fantastic.  Hysterical.  Bit of an arsehole, but I think that's probably why everyone loves him.  He's Twitter famous around campus but during the weekdays has a campus wide radio show; everyone listens unless they're in class but most people keep podcasts so..." she trailed off and shrugged, a wide smile on her face.  "He makes fun of professors, of students, reports news in this really hysterical way, local and widespread news in like pop culture, occasionally takes a crack at some government group.  Talks about his friends and his flatmates and all the shit they do at like parties and stuff.  What's really annoying is that no one knows who he is, says the best way to live life is anonymously."   

At that, Cris's head snapped up, mouth falling open, "Wait...what did you say?"   

"'The best way to live life is anonymously,' it's his tagline on Twitter.  Well...usually, sometimes he changes it briefly, last year during Christmas he wrote some shit about being an elf apparently.  Wouldn't know, though, since this is my first year."   

"So no one knows who he is?  But he goes to Middlesex?"  Cris pressed, frowning, heart pounding, thoughts going about a mile a minute.   

Rolling her eyes, Emma reached into her pocket and turned her cell phone on, pressing a button and tossing it to Cris; he caught it and raised his eyebrows at her, "Just listen to him if you're so interested.  I have a job that I'd like to keep thank you."   

She turned on her heels and left.  Micah, Benji, and Dominic raised their eyebrows at each other, but Cris kept his attention on Emma's cell phone, pressing play on the livestream audio of "Dorian Speaks" and turning up the volume so that the table could hear.   

" _I don't know.  Saying 'Ani Tiernan hooked up with someone' is a bit like saying 'Chris Brown's in trouble for assault' or 'Justin Bieber's being a twat'.  It's a given, right?  And I'm in no way saying that promiscuity is a bad thing since, as we're all quite aware, I may have a bit of reputation for being a womanizer...or not since women...no thank you.  But you catch my drift anyway, right?  Is this really news?  People really find this interesting?_ "   

Cris's breath caught as he recognized the sarcastic Scouse accent coming out of the phone speakers.  A slow grin spread over his face even as he and the boys listened, drawn into the program.   

" _Not really_ ," someone else said.   

" _Exactly, not really.  Why is everyone making such a big fuss over this particular hook up then?  Ani Tiernan gets more dick than pro wrestlers so who she hooked up with now that turns her casual sex lifestyle into the scourge of the century?  Call me a hippie, but I believe in free love...which is not actually love and may in fact have caused all that ruckus about love equating sex or some shit.  But back to my original question, Artie?_ "   

Artie cleared his throat, spoke, " _Benji Irving._ "   

Three pairs of eyes darted up to look at Benji who gaped down at the phone, pursing his lips and shrugging.  The rest of the boys shared looks of surprise, but it wasn't, in fact, altogether surprising.   

" _Benji Irving...I feel like I should know that name.  Do I know that name?"_ There's a pause on the other end of the radio followed by Irial's "oh" of understanding _, "Right then, we did have that discussion just last week.  It appears I did not put on my listening ears.  I'm sure I'll get shit for that later.  My flatmate and I are in an abusive relationship, as all you lovely listeners well know.  But, side-note, I know absolutely nothing about 'Breaking Fourth' who is apparently some big deal here in the great UK.  My bad.  And we apparently breathed the same air and such at a party at Club Deccord last week—_ "   

A laugh came from Artie, interrupting Irial, " _The one you said got you sexually frustrated at?_ "   

Cris smirked, at least he wasn't the only one.   

A sigh from Irial, " _The very same, nice to know people do actually read my Tweets.  Anyway, so my flatmate and abuser gave me a crash course in boybandology when she overcame her hangover that apparently what's his face...Dominic Kinsey—love that last night by the way, Kinsey—encouraged by buying my drunk flatmate another Cosmo.  Um...not sure how I feel about that, but moving on, I don't think I should be blamed for my ignorance.  After all, my lesson was an article in a gossip magazine.  That doesn't really count, does it?  Rhetorical question, thank you very much Rosie Posie. Back to the original topic of discussion, why do you care who she's sleeping with Artie?  Do you care who I'm sleeping with?_ "   

A pause came from over the line, and Cris raised his eyebrows, curious, " _Actually, I'd have to go with yes.  I mean, I follow your Twitter and listen to the show religiously.  So, yeah, I do care, or, at least, am interested._ "   

Irial laughed, " _Right, then mate, what are you majoring in?_ "   

" _Journalism and Public Relations,_ " Artie answered reluctantly.   

" _Then I hate to tell you this, darling, but you should probably learn to be snappier about those answers and probably not so honest.  Who wants a publicist that tells the truth?  Not_ Ani Tiernan _, that's for sure.  Look, to answer your question: yes, I believe she slept with him.  No, I don't believe she'll end up in a relationship with 'im since those don't really seem her speed.  And, yes, I think it's a bit ridiculous people care.  I mean, people, please it's Ani Tiernan; the girl's practically running unopposed for biggest celebrity slut of the year.  Let's all relax.  Thanks for calling in, though, darling, it's been an absolute pleasure.  Rosie Posie's now saying we have time for one more caller, speak to me, mate._ "   

Cris looked up at Benji who's shaking his head while the rest of the boys fight laughter.  Under the table, Cris kicked Benji's shin, waiting till he looked up to mouth, "Biggest slut of the year, classy."  Benji glared at Cris while Dominic worried his bottom lip, fighting a blush at being called out for buying a drunk girl booze.  Micah looked between the pair, amused, but Cris was still caught up in the high and excitement that he'd found Irial...sort of, but at least he'd narrowed down his prospects after a week and a half of aimless searching and pawing through phonebooks.   

There's a sharp inhalation of breath from over the line before a girl, sounding close to hyperventilating squeaks out, " _Hi?  Oh my God, it's you!_ "   

" _It's me!  I know I'm fabulous and basking in the verbal glow of my awesomeness can be a bit overwhelming, but do try not to pass out, darling, though that would certainly be one for the books._ "   

Micah chuckled, "Dorian's amusing at least.  And kicked Dominic's arse."   

Cris mirrors his friend's smile.   

" _Right...breathing...I'm Harriet._ "   

" _Hiya Harriet_ ," Irial greeted smoothly, obviously amused.   

" _I'm just...you said something about 'celebrity slut of the year', I'm just wondering who else you'd consider for that._ "   

"That _is a good question, lovely.  Um...I'd think...wait men and women, right?_ "   

" _Yeah_."   

" _Excellent.  Surprisingly not John Mayer this year, shame really, he's so often a shoe-in.  Wow...this is actually a lot harder than I thought.  All the usual suspects have been suspiciously quiet or are practically married these days.  What is the world coming to?  Justin Bieber, of course, don't care what the news says, he'll stick that diseased little pinprick in anything that moves even as he's paying off the baby mama of 'not-his-child'...right.  I don't know about you but if I could be arrested for statutory rape, I'd at least want to be damn sure that the kid's his, but I digress.  Can I go Prime Minister Sarkozy or does he not count since he only has one mistress?  Rosie-Posie says no.  God, this is really hard this year.  Russell Brand!  Yes, that one, the boys are really coming out on top this year, though._ "   

" _Harry Styles?_ "  Harriet asked.   

Barking out a laugh, Irial declined, " _Harry Styles is so gay for Louis Tomlinson it's not even funny.  And all of you Elounor shippers can say what you'd like on Twitter but I'm not a fifteen year old Tumblr-obsessed tween.  I will not be silenced!  But, seriously, this is one gay man calling out two others.  In the words of my not-quite-fellow Americans, 'Honey, they gay.' Rainbows, unicorns, and sunshine kind of gay._ "   

Micah and Benji burst out into laughter while Dominic reddened.  Cris shook his head, hand over his mouth, stifling giggles.   

" _Oh, I've got it!  Damn, forgot all about these two.  Scarlet Johansson...always a given, I mean, I don't get that one.  I know I don't swing that way, but it's not like I don't think women aren't beautiful.  I just don't want to sleep with you.  But, I don't think Scarlet Johnasson's anything special at all.  Big boobs.  Big arse.  Big lips.  Curves.  But...nothing special.  X-Tina, who's totes making this list, now that's a gorgeous, sexy, curvaceous woman that I'd pop my straight sex cherry for.  But, honey, please go back to your ex-husband, because these pre-baby wild child X-Tina days don't look good on a woman probably as old as my mum.  It's uncomfortable actually.  Harriet, mate, any suggestions?_ "   

" _Taylor Swift?_ "   

"Yes!" All four of the boys called out in unison, laughing and nodding.  Emma paused as she passed their tables before just shaking her head and dropping a bottle of ketchup down, continuing on and paying them no mind.   

" _Ha, yeah, America's good girl does love herself some dick, doesn't she.  Can't really blame her, another attractive woman but secretly a bitch methinks.  One last person?_ "   

" _Um..._ " the table's silent and tense, waiting for Harriet to throw in one last name.  And Cris popped a fry into his mouth, raising his eyebrows, a cold feeling spreading through him when she finally says, " _Cris Emerson?_ "    

Cris swallowed hard, ignoring the dozens of pairs of eyes he can suddenly feel landing on him.  It seemed as though the dozens of teens and university students in the diner had been too preoccupied with Dorian's show to pay the boys any mind, but now every eye swiveled to Cris, even his friends, though all those eyes except his friends' pitying, sympathetic glances said people wanted to know Irial's opinion before casting stones.   

Irial hummed thoughtfully, " _I think we're out of time, but, let me just finish by saying, think we'll have to put that one on hold now.  Not really sure.  Don't know much about him so, we'll revisit this another time and someone who isn't my scatterbrained, judgmental flatmate will have to enlighten me.  Thank you all so much for listening, I guess I'll be talking to the lot of you tomorrow.  Have the day you have, and while you have it please enjoy my parting gift of 'Little Bird' by Ed Sheeran._ "   

The program cut off abruptly, and Cris bit his bottom lip and nodded, not quite sure of what he's more upset about: that people genuinely thought he was a slut or that Irial gave it a noncommittal dismissal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're upset about they gypsy descriptions...take a breath and calm down. I'm fascinated by ACTUAL cultures that I am not apart of. In lieu of any actual Romanichal gypsies to talk to, I based my description of them based on those unflattering shows on TLC (that I think got canceled because of their controversy), Internet research, and important future plot points. Also, if you're upset about the Harry Styles thing...I try to stay away from that inter-fandom drama, but I call it like I see it. I'm not even in the fandom so don't freak out on me (except their newest album is actually pretty brilliant, not gonna lie). Also, I do love me some Taylor Swift, so I wasn't hating on her, just acknowledging that she does, in fact, date a lot.


	5. "Uncharted" Sara Bareilles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irial gets the most difficult customer ever and is stalked/invaded by a popstar...and his not-quite-flatmate Moo Shu pork from scratch

Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)  
Bossman said he trusts me not to steal anything important or do anything too stupid, gave me keys & split. To be insulted or not to be?  
  
To: crossesoflead@gmail.com  
From: owlguardiansoren@gmail.com  
Subject: Writing and Such  
Crissy!  
I know you asked me to collab writing a song with you a while back for this upcoming album.  Any ideas?  Date?  Time?  Album deadline?  Throw me a bone, I beg you.  Don't keep me in such suspense.  I suggest channeling your quest for Tweet boy.  Which, any luck breaking that one?  
Soren  
  
To: owlguardiansoren@gmail.com.uk  
From: crossesoflead@gmail.com.uk  
Subject: It's a good thing ILY  
Soren my side,  
First, no idea what to write and the deadline's still iffy just like soon so...I guess writing wise the sooner the better.  Also, "Tweet boy" has a name.  It's Irial.  And, yes, I found him, sort of.  I've basically been Twitter stalking him for an actual location, but at least I technically have a better idea of who and where he is.  
PS. I still can't get over your email address.  Legend of the Guardians, really?  
  
To: crossesoflead@gmail.com.uk  
From: owlguardiansoren@gmail.com.uk  
Subject: RE: It's a good thing ILY  
Crissy-poo...  
Twitter stalking? I don't think that's healthy so I refrain from congratulating you.  We can meet at yours Sunday to start just please try to get down something before then and for god's sake have coffee in your flat heathen.  
PS. A children's book about serfdom in England?  Those in glass houses...  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
Found you @DorianII  #promisespromises #serendipity #sorrynotsorry  
  
 **@Cris_Emerson is now following @DorianII**  
  
 **Janelle J Harding (@JJluvsB4)**  
my idol @Cris_Emerson is following my idol @DorianII what is this?  
  
 **Emma Cross (@EmmaCross)**  
@Cris_Emerson did I miss something #wtf  
  
 **Rosalind Conway (@B4blackrosa)**  
@Cris_Emerson just imploded my world. What the fuck is this? #wtf #CrisEmerson #Dorian #dorianspeaks #breakingfourth

* * *

Irial just stared, not at the clock or the floor or the flock of customers heading to the door, having gotten the message that it was _closing time_ and that the short boy behind the counter had no desire to spend his night listening to a bunch of Hipster college students talk about their classwork and gossip about classmates while drinking coffee.  No, he was too busy staring at the indecisive redheaded chick still leaning her body against the counter, manicured fingernails tapping on the teak wood as she muttered to herself, staring up at the drink menu.   

Eyes drifting heavenward, praying for some divine patience, he looked back at her with a way-too-sarcastic smile that he really didn't have the energy to try and curb today...right now...when he was supposed to be cleaning behind the counter, locking up the doors, and retreating back to his flat.  All of which he'd have to do himself since he'd been nice and let his barista partner in crime, Simon, scurry home early so he could finish some biology project thinking ' _who's really going to come in at seven-thirty to buy coffee?_ '   

This bitch apparently.   

Heaving a long-suffering sigh, Irial blinked at her repeatedly, quickly, but she paid him no mind, eyes still skimming over the list of choices.  Rolling his eyes, he grabbed one of the rags, ready to just start cleaning and damn the consequences of this woman's complete inability to make a decision when she cleared her throat.  He froze instantly, spinning around and forcing an unconvincing smile.   

"Tall iced coffee in a grande cup with extra ice, 3 pumps hazelnut, 2 pumps classic, and inch of non-fat milk.  Oh, and can I get that with a dome lid and a venti straw?  Thanks," she offered him a brilliant smile that, even if he was straight, wouldn't have made him any less pissed off.   

Irial gaped her at a moment before blinking and shaking his head, forcing himself out of his daze.  Of course the last order of the day would happen literally two minutes before closing time when he was alone and be the most complicated order of his life.  Rolling his eyes upward, Irial made a face at her, "Yeah, let me get right on that."  She shifted, smile widening, pleased.  He turned to get to work on her order, muttering under his breath, "Annoying twat."   

By the time, he'd made her order and sent her on her way, flipping the sign in the doorway to 'Closed' despite leaving it unlocked, he was already fifteen minutes behind schedule since his first attempt had been "too-hazelnutty" which meant he'd had to remake it...twice.   

Shaking his head, he bent over, cleaning off the equipment as quickly and vigorously as possible, murmuring under his breath about difficult costumers and the state of society when people have more detailed coffee orders than plans to fix world hunger.  The bell over the front door chimed, and Irial sighed, rolling his eyes and not bothering to look up from his cleaning as he yelled, "We're closed!"   

Silence.   

Irial scowled.  _Please don't be some crazy axe murderer hear to like assassinate me or something_.   

Considering how long he'd been here after closing already, Irial didn't really care.  With another long sigh, he finished cleaning the coffee machine, starting to reassemble all the pieces and repeating, "Mate, we're not open; besides, it's way too late for a caffeine fix."   

"Do you know how many higher education schools in the London area?"  A shocking familiar voice questioned, the deep, throaty timbre making his whole body flush with heat even as his lips curved into a smile.  Irial ducked his head, shaking it; of course that bastard would be able to pull off the impossible and find him.  Cris went on without prompting, his gaze burning a hole into Irial's back as he continued to work, "Approximately ninety-eight, including international universities and specialized institutes."   

When he finished, Irial spun around and walked over to where Cris stood at the counter, leaning against the edge and raising his eyebrows at him, "Another useless fact for trivia."   

"You know how many Irials live in the metropolitan area?"   

"Probably a fair few more than I thought."   

"Too many," Cris replied evenly, a haunted look in his eye that made Irial laugh.   

"Who told you to actually look for me?  Maybe I didn't want to be found.  What if I'm in hiding?  I could be in Witness Protection or something, and the likes of you'll blow my cover."   

Cris eyed him flatly, shaking his head, "You're too flamboyant to be in hiding.  You'd sell yourself out in a day out of sheer boredom."   

Irial pursed his lips and tilted his head, opening his mouth to retort before sighing and nodding, "You might actually have a point."  Cris hummed in agreement while Irial paused, staring at him through narrowed eyes, "How exactly did you find me?"   

"Next time, don't quote your Twitter tagline.  Emma Cross ratted you out a couple days ago."   

"Doubtful," Irial replied, unconvinced.  "My Twitter's anonymous."   

"Doesn't matter, I knew your name, university, and you drop hints in your Tweets."   

Cris eyed the leftover cake pops Irial had moved from the display to the counter, reaching out for one.  Irial slapped his hand away from them automatically, "You _Twitter stalked_ me?  Alright, I think I might be officially creeped out.  Do I need a restraining order?  Are you going to kidnap me and lock me in your basement."   

"I think you're a tad bit too high maintenance for that," Cris pointed out, trying once again for a cake pop, catching Irial's wrist when he started flicking Cris's hand in retaliation.   

"Those are not yours, Crispin."   

"Nope," Cris beamed, face lighting up as he finally managed to snag one, dragging his tongue over the surface and offering it back to Irial.   

Irial pulled his wrist back, glaring at Cris and picking up the box of cake pops, eyeing the boy warily.  Blinking at Irial innocently, Cris took a bite of the cake pop, and Irial rolled his eyes, closing up the box and nodding at Cris to back up.  Raising an eyebrow, Cris complied only seconds before Irial hopped over the counter with an impish smile; he nodded at the boy to follow him, pushing him out the coffee shop, flicking out the lights before locking up the door behind them.  Whirling around, Irial paused, eyes narrowed on Cris, unsure exactly what to do with him; Cris blinked at him, smiling angelically.   

He didn't buy that for a second.   

Shaking his head, Irial fought a smile, "You're like a puppy, really."   

"Dog with a bone?" Cris grinned.   

"I've been hearing things about you," Irial replied lightly.   

Cris's expression sobered, and he nodded, swallowing hard and looking down at his feet, worrying his bottom lip.  Irial bounced on the balls of his feet, a bereft feeling clawing at him, guilty for putting that look there.  After taking a moment to compose himself, Cris looked up and nodded, forcing a smile, but his face was an open book, leaving no room for doubt that the words had bothered him, "I know."   

Irial nodded, studying him silently and trying to decide what the hell was going to do with the popstar puppy who'd basically followed him home.  Before he could speak, though, Justin Bieber started singing in his high-pitched little whine about how he'd thought baby girl would always be his, which, bitch, Selena Gomez was just too damn good for him.  Cris's sheepish expression shifted as Irial grimaced, fishing his cell phone from his pocket; a wide grin split across Cris's face.   

"'Baby'?"   

Irial stuck out his tongue at Cris, even as he answered Harry's phone call, "Hiya Harry."   

"Moo Shu pork."   

Blinking in confusion, Irial narrowed his eyes, glancing at Cris, realizing just for the first time that he was basically aiming for incognito despite standing in the middle of the sidewalk at eight in the evening with only an Imagine Dragons hoodie to hide his identity.  Irial rolled his eyes and reached out to wrap his fingers around Cris's wrist, ignoring the way the boy's pulse jumped under the touch, tugging him in the shadowy alcove just outside the coffee shop door.   

"Um...I actually have no reply to that whatsoever.  Could you be a tad more specific and include verbs, helping verbs, maybe some adjectives?  Adverbs are always nice to."   

Cris smiled slightly, ducking his head and staring down at Irial who glanced up at him and froze, only just realizing how close they stood now, the boy's wrist still in Irial's hand.  Clearing his throat awkwardly, Irial tried to take a step back and away, dropping his hold on Cris's wrist, but the boy's much bigger hand, calloused from years of playing guitar, catching Irial's own and stilling him, both of them very much remaining in each other's personal space.   

Harry sighed, "Look, I made some for Rosie—"   

"Wait...you _made_ moo shu pork?"  Irial reiterated, looking at Cris, incredulous.  Cris pursed his lips, impressed.   

"Yeah, for Rosie, look can you just make sure to put it away when you get home.  I mean, you can have some obviously, but Dad called me in, needs the extra hands, and Rosie's volunteering late at that stables.  So..."   

"Yeah, fine, go Potter, I'll get it."   

"You're the best.  Thank you so much."   

"I'm hanging up now before you give me a big head," Irial warned only a moment before he ended the conversation and sighed, automatically resting his head on Cris's chest, "My flatmates are exhausting."   

Cris huffed out a laugh, hands moving to skim over Irial's hips as he wrapped him in a loose hug, "Oh, your flatmate cooked you dinner, poor baby."   

"And then ran out on me!  _Both_ of them!"  Irial exclaimed indignantly.   

"How terrible," Cris intoned dryly.   

Irial poked Cris in the side, smirking as he squirmed away, ticklish, "Yeah, yeah popstar, you just don't understand my struggle.  When was the last time you had to pick up anyone else's messes?"   

"Two weeks ago," Cris pointed out.  "Where do you think people live when they're on tour?  And, oh the horror, you have two flatmates who never seem to be there, but I had three young guys who like to play pranks, our stylist, security, and the hair and make-up people, our tour manager, do I need to go on or do you concede?"   

Irial wrinkled his nose and narrowed his eyes at Cris, "Well, fine, if that's the way you're gonna be, I'll not be offering you any homemade moo shu pork.  Congrats on your not-quite-so serendipitous discovery of my person, I'll just be going now."   

Pulling himself out of Cris's arms, Irial turned to start down the street, when Cris caught his wrist again, tugging him back sharply, body molding against Cris's without conscious decision to do so.  Cris tucked his head into Irial's neck, lips ghosting over the thin skin of his neck, trailing up the side before pausing just under Irial's ear.  Irial held himself stiffly, trying his hardest not to just absolutely melt into a puddle of formerly Irial-shaped goo for this kid, barely succeeding given the way his stomach dropped, heartbeat stuttering, breathing ragged just from the feeling of Cris's lips ghosting over his skin and curving into a smile,   

"But, Irial, I thought we had a deal?"   

Huffing out a laugh, Irial nodded, fingers reaching out to play with the fraying hem of Cris's sweatshirt, "You know, love, you're the reason mothers warn never to talk to strangers, I'm convinced."   

With a breathy laugh, Cris shook his head, "You trying to say I'm a threat to your virtue?  I know you're a little bitty elf, but that's still a pretty big leap."   

"Are _you_ trying to say _I_ don't have any virtue to steal?"   

"The thought occurred to me. Now, are you going to feed me?  I _am_ a growing boy," Cris murmured, pulling back to give Irial a sweet smile that Irial doubted even the coldest person would be able to resist, though Irial was starting to think that charming and adorable may just be Cris's default setting, a shame since Irial doubted how long he'd be able to hold out against that level of irresistible.    

Shaking his head in disbelief, eyes shifted away from Cris's pleading look, Irial sighed in defeat before meeting Cris's tawny gaze, "Do you know what they say about feeding stray puppies?"  Irial looked around, noting that the street was almost completely deserted before lacing his fingers with Cris's, tugging the boy out of the alcove and keeping hold of him unconsciously as they headed down the street, way too comfortable around Cris already especially being less than the most tactile person on the planet.  He gave Cris a sideways glance, "I hope you have a card for the Underground, love."   

Cris shrugged, a cheerful, pleased smile split across his face, completely lighting it up, "So I'm a puppy and you're an elf?"   

"Excuse me very much, is that a short joke?  I resent that! I'm _average_!"  Irial exclaimed dramatically.   

Bursting out in a laugh, Cris argued, "If you were a _girl_."  He glanced over at Irial, eyes sweeping over his body and drinking him in, tawny eyes smoldering as he finished with, "You're _definitely_ not a girl."   

_Behave_ , Irial warned himself mentally even as his whole body jolted and simmered at the words, heart pounding, palms sweating.  The air between them was thick and cloying, and Irial carefully extracted his hand from Cris's grip, both of them slipping into his pockets as he looked at everywhere except the too-horny, too-sexy, too-tempting teenaged popstar beside him.  The teenaged popstar Irial was _not_ going to sleep with, because he was amusing and charming and adorable and confident without being arrogant and high profile...a high profile boyband member with a reputation for being a womanizer and was either closeted or just curious, neither of which Irial desired to touch with a ten-foot pole except...   

He kind of did...like a lot for all the reasons he couldn't and wouldn't.   

Irial switched the subject, back to safe topics, "I don't really want to be an elf, though.  Can I be a faery?  Like the awesome 'ae' ones not like male Tinkerbell..." his words trailed off as he glanced sideways at Cris to see him grinning, eyes glinting with innuendo.  Poking him the side, Irial glared, "Not _that_ kind of fairy.  Honestly."   

Cris kept laughing, and Irial reached over, poking his sides again, turning Cris's guffaws of laughter into giggles as he danced out of Irial's reach, a wide, boyish smile on his face.  "Sorry," Cris said sounding rather unapologetic, tone still filled with mirth as he considered Irial, "you don't think you could be Tink?  You're wearing enough tight-fitting green clothes."  Irial shot him a withering glare, and Cris just smiled sweetly in response, throwing and arm around Irial's shoulders and pressing their sides together, "And I don't think you get to pick your nickname.  That's not how it works."   

"Yeah?"  Irial raised his eyebrows at Cris, "And I don't think you get to invite yourselves to people's houses.  That's _definitely_ not how that works."   

Cris tossed Irial a cheeky smile, "I'm just a puppy following you home, remember?"   

"Yeah," Irial rolled his eyes as they reached the Underground entrance, "you're a cheeky little shit, I do remember."  Cris laughed huskily, and Irial's smile widened in response, hip-checking Crispin and tugging him inside.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I legitmately looked up the most difficult Starbucks order and that is what some chick who works at Starbucks said...so, yeah.


	6. "Intuition" Selena Gomez

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irial is knight (in his own head) and has (supposedly) terrible taste in music and literature. And there's a cockroach.

**B4 Is Life (@Vixen7183x)**  
OMFG I JUST SAW @Cris_Emerson ON THE TUBE! I cant even breathe  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
My uninvited guest has no table manners either #wtf #notmycouch #WolfAtTheTable  
  
 **Text Message from Rosie to Irial**  
 **Rosie** : dont eat all my food  
 **Irial** : i'm a hobbit. where would i put it all?  
 **Rosie** : dont try to be cute  
 **Rosie** : ur not  
 **Irial** : i resent that  
 **Rosie** : harold made that for me  
 **Rosie** : and dont even i say you put away a whole pizza alone during the olympics  
 **Irial** : im a stress eater!  
 **Irial** : i was worried my countrymen had become losers  
 **Rosie** : well...  
 **Irial** : -.- im done with you  
 **Rosie** : wait!  
 **Rosie** : who's over?  
 **Rosie** : IRI!  
 **Rosie** : sigh...fine...just make sure you use protection  
  
 **Ainsley Stilinski (@stileshasthespark)**  
Um...may be crazy but i seriously think i saw @Cris_Emerson of @breakingfourth leaving campus #hyperventilating #WhatIsLife  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
Homemade Chinese food's a little intimidating #MooShuPork #SomeoneSaveMe #ShouldI?  
  
 **Dominic Kinsey (@Nic_Kinsey)**  
@Cris_Emerson sounds dangerous O.O  
  
 **Soren Reid (@sorensoars)**  
@Cris_Emerson I won't reschedule if you get food poisoning #justsaying  
  
 **Benji Iriving (@BenjiDIrving)**  
better man up @Cris_Emerson and eat it. Mate, you're representing @breakingfourth #BeStrong #DrinkTheKoolAid #YouveGotThis  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
Omfg, this is just ridiculous, kid. I'm about to force feed this kid through a damn straw #judging

* * *

 

"You're mental."   

Silence.   

"It's not _poisonous_ just...you know... _grab_ it."   

A disbelieving look.   

"Quite the child, you are. Fine but don't just sit there.  _Do_ something."   

"Why don't you?  You're older, anyway," Cris pointed out, lips turning into a pointed little pout that had worked on shark interviewers, record execs, and parents alike, but Irial just barked out a laugh at the expression, raising his eyebrows and pointing a finger at him.   

"Charming, love, really.  Age is but a number.  You're an old soul, I'm immature.  Besides, I think I'm gonna have pull the gay card on this one.  I'm far too much a sparkly fairy princess to lower myself to such _unsavory_ levels."  Cris blinked at him, and Irial waved a hand imperiously, still crouched on top of a chair and eyeing the bug in the corner with a narrow-eyed murderous gaze.  He shifted, glancing sideways at Cris, "Well, off with you Sir Crispin."   

Biting his bottom lip, Crispin shifted closer to Irial, pressing their arms together while Cris grimaced down at the offending roach; he took a deep breath and moved, on foot hitting the linoleum; the roach scurried further away, and Cris leapt back onto the chair, eyes locked on the bug, chest heaving as he shook his head a little too frantically, "I can't!"   

Irial sighed, "Love, it's just a _bug_.  Not even a cool one with like ten foot long antennae and about a million legs."  Cris swallowed, still eyeing the roach and choosing not to respond; he had this _tiny_ problem with bugs.  Not like a fear...but maybe a bit of a phobia?  And roaches were gross.  Besides, Irial had hopped up onto the chair right after Cris when their unwelcome guest had been spotted; he had no room to judge.   

"You kill it then," Cris replied, voice a little shaky.   

Alright..so maybe it _was_ a fear.   

But only when they migrated indoors.  Bugs were not _pets_.  They weren't cute and cuddly and good for lowering Cris's way-too-high blood pressure.  They were vermin and disease and decidedly not good house guests considering well the disease and filth and _colonies_ that accompanied them.  That was that; it's not like he'd made the rule.   

Heaving an over-exaggerated sigh, Irial rolled back his shoulders and seemed to steal himself, nodding resolute and hopping off the chair with a bang.  The cockroach reacted on instinct, making a mad dash for the pantry, but Irial anticipated, slamming his foot down on it with a crunch and looking up at Cris with a grin, "I've slain the dragon, fair maiden."   

"I can hardly say I'm impressed," Cris remarked, curling up his lip as Irial disengaged his foot from the carcass with a rip and crackle.  He leaned forward to hide his face in between Irial's shoulder blades, balancing on the chair's edge precariously; Irial shifted back, supporting Cris's weight automatically, even as he toed off his gut encrusted sneaker, one hand pulling out his phone to snap a picture of the mess, "I was expecting something...I don't know...bigger?"   

Gasping playfully, Irial looked over his shoulder at Cris who looked up to meet the pair of stormy gray eyes laughing down at him, chin digging into Irial's back; those eyes sparkled with amusement as Irial retorted, "Surveillance in the Underground, sneaking you around London, making you dinner, slaying offending roaches, _and_ you're already making quips about size.  Lord, you're a demanding date."   

Cris blinked at Irial, startled, a warm, pleased feeling spreading through him, mirroring the happy little smile he could already tell had begun to curl his lips.  He hadn't really been thinking when he'd all but invited himself over to Irial's flat, and he certainly figured that this hardly counted as a date.  But it could, right?  Irial could like him, right?  Hard to tell since Irial went from hyper sexual to apathetic in less than a second; he teased and flirted and melted under Cris's tactile and charm, then shifted abruptly, hardening and shutting down.  It was frustrating.   

 _Irial_ was frustrating...and normal...and opinionated...and sarcastic...and a little mean...and just about the sexiest person Cris had ever met and by far the most interesting.   

Glancing back over his shoulder, Irial tapped the toe of Cris's boot, "You can hop down now princess.  Roach invasion handled."   

Huffing with feigned annoyance, Cris peeled himself off of Irial's back, avoiding his gaze as he hopped to the floor, standing behind Irial, keeping him between Cris's body and the squashed roach.  Irial laughed, and Cris could tell he was rolling his eyes even without looking at him.   

"Forget puppy," Irial remarked as he grabbed a paper towel, cleaning off his shoes and the floor with a grimace on his face.  "You're a princess.  Damsel in distress all the way.  Why do people find you so attractive, again?"   

Irial crumpled the paper towel into a ball, waving it jokingly in Cris's direction; he smirked when Cris took an automatic leap away, eyes wide, and chucked it into the trash bin.   

"I'm sexy?"  Cris suggested.   

"Wow, okay, modest too, huh?"  Irial pursed his lips, looking sideways at Cris who only blinked innocently at Irial, "Besides, I'd go with cute."   

"Cute?"  Cris repeated, cocking his head and following Irial into the living room without being asked.  It had been almost two years since anyone had called him 'cute'; that had been the only word he'd heard when his career had first taken off three years ago.  Back then, he'd been gangly and long-limbed with a short mop of dark wavy locks, big tawny eyes that just seemed to scream 'naive', and a nasty habit of tripping over air particles.  That combined with his easy blushes and stupid interview answers had turned him into one of the 'cutest kids in the UK', but he'd grown out of it.  These days he'd basically become a sex symbol, much to his family's dismay, to every person over thirteen on the planet except to the one person recently that he'd really actually like to have sex with.   

Excellent.  Great.  Fantastic.   

Nodding decisively, Irial knelt down in front of a row of DVDs, "It took you fifteen minutes and me taste-testing the Moo Shu Pork for you to eat it.  You're afraid of cockroaches."   

"Bit pot and kettle, isn't it?"   

"I did kill it, though," Irial pointed out, looking back at Cris over his shoulder.  "Are you staying to watch a movie, princess?"   

Cris shrugged, uncertain, "Can I?"   

Smile widening and tongue poking out of the corner, Irial returned, "Wouldn't have asked otherwise.  Favorite movie?"   

"Love Actually," Cris replied automatically.  

Irial made a pained noise, "Tragic stereotype."   

Crossing his arms over his chest, Cris glared at Irial, "If you don't like me, I could just leave."   

"If I didn't like you, I'd be kind and painfully polite," Irial responded tonelessly.  "You've seen Les Miserables?"   

"The opera?"  Cris frowned.   

Sighing, Irial pulled a DVD off the shelf, putting it in the player and rising to tug Cris to the couch, "We need to expand your cinematic knowledge.  God knows there are far better movies out there than rom coms and Titanic."   

Following Irial's example, Cris kicked off his shoes before sitting down on the opposite end of the couch, resisting the urge to sprawl out across it as per usual and use Irial as a pillow.  A feeling that only became more and more demanding when Irial tucked himself against the arm, pulling the afghan off the couch back and draping it over himself.  Cris folded his hands in his lap, trying to focus on watching the promos flicking across the screen and not Irial who looked warm and cozy and soft, tapping away on his cell phone.   

Irial paused, looking up and meeting Cris's gaze, and he flicked his eyes back to the screen quickly.  Smirking and stifling a laugh, Irial turned back to his cell phone, and Cris peeked over at him again, eyes ghosting over curve of his neck, the line of his jaw dusted in a fine layer of stubble, silvery gray eyes narrowed even more than usual, focused on the screen with so much intensity that his eyebrows had drawn together in a frown, a clump of his honey-colored wispy hair falling forward into his eyes.  Irial swept it away one-handedly, eyes darting up and locking on Cris who flushed while Irial raised his eyebrows at Cris, "Can I help you, Crispin?"   

Biting his bottom lip, Cris nodded at the television, "You could play the movie."   

Rolling his eyes, Irial hit the button on the remote, glancing back at Cris who stubbornly refused to look at him.  Huffing, Irial leaned over, tugging Cris closer to him and manhandling him until he was sprawled across the couch, back and head resting on Irial's calf and knees, not that Cris had resisted all that much.  Almost immediately, Cris relaxed, snuggling into Irial and tucking his legs up into the cushions; Irial carded his hand through Cris's hair without even seeming to think about it, and Cris's stomach lurched as he peered up at Irial, "I don't why you were even pretending.  You're easily the most tactile person I've ever met.  You were so damn stiff that you were about two seconds from turning into Vladimir and Stefan."   

Cris paused, frowning up at Irial, "You lost me."   

"Vampires who almost turned to stone from _Twilight_."   

Rolling his eyes, Cris pinched Irial's leg through the afghan, "You have questionable taste in literature _and_ music."   

"Oi!" Irial swatted Cris's head, "See if I let you go through my library again!  It's _one_ Justin Bieber song not his whole fucking album.  Besides, you're not really one to comment since you actually think Selena Gomez makes good music.  I mean, what planet do you live on?  The bird's gorgeous, but she's not exactly musical genius of the year here.  She doesn't even write her own music!"   

"You're just jealous of her relationship with Justin Bieber," Cris teased.   

"Oh yes, I've always wanted to date an aggressive, wannabe ghetto twat," Irial said flatly.  "You have his number so I can begin my master plan to steal him from Selena."   

"I don't think they're dating anymore."   

"That's cause she's holding herself out for a princess like you, love," Irial fluttered his eyelashes at Cris who just looked up at him dispassionately.   

"I don't think I like you."   

Massive, massive lie.   

Irial smirked and tugged on a lock of Cris's hair, "You're a bad liar, Crispin.  Besides, everybody loves me.  I'm an angel."   

"I read your Tweets.  I'd no idea angels were so—"   

"Quite enough out of you, Crispin, love," Irial cut him off with an unbothered smile and a tap on the nose.   

Cris wrinkled his nose, and Irial smiled down at him, setting down his phone on the arm of the couch, throwing an arm over Cris's side, fingers tapping out the beat to the song on Cris's chest.  The movie could barely hold his attention for two minutes uninterrupted.  His whole body thrummed from sitting so close to Irial, his attention half-focused on keeping his breathing even, heart pounding and stomach fluttering with every tap of Irial's fingers.  It didn't take fifteen minutes before Cris reached up, grasping Irial's fingers, still them and hoping to help settle his nerves and heartbeat; they only seemed to get worse since Irial's small fingers just curled loosely around Cris's, their hands resting over Cris's chest.   

Discreetly, Cris peered up at Irial, studying him with a small smile as Irial watched the action play out across the screen, mouthing the words to the song and using his other hand to tap out the rhythm on his cell phone.  He shook his head, turning back to the screen and frowning, "Alright, what exactly did this bloke do that's so bad no one'll hire him?  Serial killer?  Arsonist?  Rebel rouser, back in that time period?"   

Irial smiled wryly, "He stole bread."   

Cris blinked up at Irial, hoping he heard him wrong, "Did you just say he stole bread?"   

"To feed his family," Irial continued.   

Sitting up, Cris twisted, throwing an arm over Irial's lap to balance himself, "So, this three hour long movie is about a man being chased by a police officer with seriously no time on his hands and apparently no defined jurisdiction after his fifteen year term for stealing a piece of bread that wasn't even for himself.  And there's no spoken words."   

Eyes glinting with laughter, Irial met Cris's eyes and nodded, lips pursed.   

"That's...that's a bit ridiculous.  Someone honestly wrote a thousand page book about _this_ ," Cris balked.  Irial laughed and tugged on Cris's hair while Cris shook his head, thrown, "That's more ridiculous than your appreciation for Drake."   

"This from the boy who doesn't like Imagine Dragons because they're 'too mainstream'.  I knew you were a Hipster.  Who doesn't like something because it's mainstream?  _That's_ ridiculous."   

"As ridiculous as someone who put their whole life up on Twitter?"  Cris retorted with a too-innocent smile.   

Irial scoffed, "I do not put _everything_ up on Twitter."   

Cris raised his eyebrows, snagging Irial's phone and cuddling back up into his side as he flipped it on, spotting the Twitter app first and clicking it.  "You should put a lock on this," Cris muttered offhandedly, as he pulled up all of Irial recent Tweets.   

"I always forget the password," Irial whined, and Cris snickered,  "After I got myself locked out for three days, I decided I'd trade less privacy for functionality any day."   

Cris shook his head at Irial, biting his bottom lip and fighting a smile, eyes reading over the Tweets that start at eight in the morning and continue all the way to the start of the movie.

 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
Looks like its Baileys and Lucky Charms for breakfast.  Fucking Potter finished off the fridge again #asshole #YouDontEvenLiveHere #FeedMe  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
I think my prof just propositioned me #IsThatAllowed #creepy #YouShallNotPass  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
I'm on time today @rosieposie :P #dorianspeaks  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
Excellent show today methinks. We should talk about bjs and tantric sex more often #dorianspeaks  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
People need to stop sending me sexy pics #ImHorny #sexualfrustration  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
All you people with crazy complicated coffee orders...fuck you  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
Bossman said he trusts me not to steal anything important or do anything too stupid, gave me keys  & split. To be insulted or not to be?  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
I found a puppy #lostboy #ItsASexyPuppyThough  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
Omfg, this is just ridiculous, kid. I'm about to force feed this kid through a damn straw #judging  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
My uninvited guest has no table manners either #wtf #notmycouch #WolfAtTheTable  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
Uninvited guest=terminated. Sir Dorian to the rescue! You're welcome princess #laCucaracha #SirDorianSavesTheDay  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
Can I get some appreciation for the cinematic magic that is Les Miz #lmfao #ThatRhymes #LesMiserables  
  
His second to last Tweet came complete with the rather gory picture of the deceased roaches, guts splayed out across the tile and over the rubber sole of Irial's show.  Cris grimaced and shook his head, holding up the phone so that Irial could see all his Tweets, "That's a dozen.  Ordinary people don't Tweet this much.  I don't even Tweet this much. Wait, did you follow me back?"  Cris asked, noting the most recent activity and looking up at Irial with a wide grin.   

Irial rolled his eyes and snagged his phone from Cris, "I should unfollow you just for being a little shit.  You feel honored, I don't really follow anyone.  I don't even follow one of my flatmates."   

Cris's smile widened, "I do feel honored."  Irial snorted, turning back to watch the movie, and Cris pursed his lips, tilting his head back to stare up at Irial who quirked an eyebrow at Cris, "Does that mean I can have your number, then?"   

Irial smiled and shook his head at Cris's tenacity.   

Cris beamed.  That hadn't been a 'no'.

* * *

 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
@Cris_Emerson Serendipitous  



	7. "My Weakness" Kris Allen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cris has a secret (that he doesn't seem to be intending to share) and Irial gets elbowed in the face and contemplates murder...with Cris naturally.

**Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@sorensoars can say it's an 'exercise' but I know it's a punishment  
  
 **Soren Reid (@sorensoars)**  
Good times at the studio with @Cris_Emerson and @Nic_Kinsey  
  
 **Dominic Kinsey (@Nic_Kinsey)**  
12 extended metaphors about feeling alone later, we're got 2 new songs for the album including one that has nothing to do with loneliness, winter wonderlands, or black and white pictures #justsaying  
  
 **Cris Emerson Sightseeing?**  
Member of internationally renowned boyband, Breaking Fourth, was spotted only a couple days ago wandering historic London neighborhood, Middlesex, on the fringes of local university campus before disappearing into the Underground.  Seems innocent enough, a quick sightsee of London after being abroad three months, right?  While the teen heartthrob wasn't _seen_ with anyone, it's certainly interesting he chose to walk around a college campus nowhere near his Chelsea flat and take the tube instead of his 50K Mercedes Benz.  It could be a spontaneous visit to check out London, but with Cris Emerson whose to say, especially when he didn't reappear at his flat until well after one in the morning.  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (DorianII)**  
#GoodLuck to the Mdx football team in today's match but either way the after party will be brill  
  
 **Text Message from Harry to Rosie**  
 **Harold <3**: You see that article?  
 **Rosie** : i work in a coffee shop with brit barbie & her b4 fangirl bff  
 **Rosie** : of course  
 **Harold <3**:what are the chances be just happened to be at mdx?  
 **Rosie** : conspiracy theorist harold  
 **Harold <3**: Iri ate half the moo shu pork & admitted on twitter someone else was there  
 **Rosie** : u dont think hed tell us?  
 **Rosie** : how would cris have found him anyway?  
 **Rosie** : didnt iri say he didnt give up any personal info?  
 **Harold <3**: Emma?  
 **Rosie** : paranoid  
 **Harold <3**: You dont think its weird?  
 **Rosie** : idk idc that u in the cheetah jeans?  
 **Harold <3**: that you in the ewok hat?  
 **Rosie** : bitch just come entertain me. I h8 soccer  
 **Harold <3**: football  
 **Rosie** : that girl in the fuzzy, eared 'ewok' hat is flipping you off

* * *

Soren, it seemed, had no intention of letting it go, and, therefore, Dominic had gotten involved albeit indirectly, preferring to sit on the sidelines of the conversation, sipping his coke as his eyes darted back and forth between his two friends.  Cris didn't bother looking up from his notebook as Soren fired an array of questions at him, digging for information that Cris had no intention of giving up just yet, especially not in front of Dominic.   

"So you found—?"   

"Yeah."   

"And you went to—"   

"Yeah."   

"You two..."   

"Conversed."   

"So you didn't—"   

"No," Cris sighed, shooting Soren a dirty look.  It was a fair enough question, he supposed.  Not that all the rumors of him being some kind of sex-crazed womanizer were anything but fabricated, which Soren well knew, but he also wasn't a twelve-year-old blushing virgin either.  "We didn't."   

"But you want to?"   

"I guess," Cris replied tiredly; he swiveled his head exhausted to stare at Soren, gesturing to the open notebook, "Can we—"   

"That who the song's about?"  Soren finally outright asked.   

Cris had been expecting the question, but that didn't make him any less reluctant to actually answer it.  Carefully, he reached over and grabbed his own bottle of water, collecting his thoughts as he swallowed down the now lukewarm liquid, scowling and shaking his head before turning to look back at Soren.  Soren hadn't moved, staring intently and expectantly at Cris, waiting; Cris shrugged, "I...probably...maybe...I don't know."   

Soren's lips curled up into a smile at he reached over, ruffling Cris's hair, ignoring the way Cris shrank back, trying to run away from his outstretched hand, "Aw!  Chrissy-poo's got a crush."   

"Yeah, yeah, can we finish?  I don't really want to spend more time than absolutely necessary basking in my feelings of isolation and displacement, thank you very much Soren."   

Shrugging, Soren reached over and plucked the notebook away from Cris, reading over the lyrics and dropping it on the table next to him as he picked up the guitar and strummed, muttering the lyrics under his breath and playing with a few chords to find the one he liked best.  Dominic tore his eyes away from Cris, bending down to study the lyrics; he pulled a pen out of his pocket, cross something out and scribbled some words on the page before leaning back and looking to Soren who nodded.   

"Yeah, that's not as redundant."   

Dominic turned back to Cris, "So who's this bird you like, mate?  Anyone we know?"   

Cris choked on his water, and Soren glanced over at Cris, frowning as he looked between Dominic and Cris, eyes narrowing on Cris judgmentally.  Cris cringed under the look and offered him a tiny, 'what can you do' shrug before looking over at Dominic.  He swallowed and shook his head, "Um...no."   

"Where'd you meet her?"   

"Um..." Soren looked heavenward, shaking his head, "Club Deccord."   

"Wait," Dominic started, "you're not _actually_ hooking up with Lavonne, are you?  I thought that was just media hysteria again."   

"It is," Cris assured Dominic.  Huffing, Dominic raised his eyebrows at Cris, waiting for him to continue.  Cris cleared his throat, "I mean, I uh...we met when I went out into the alley for some air."   

Blinking at him, Dominic shook his head, "You're hooking up with a girl you met in an alley.  That's...interesting.  Does Emma know her?"   

"I'm not hooking up with anyone and maybe?  I'm not sure."   

"Alright," Dominic began slowly, trying to wrap his head around this whole thing for Cris's sake when Cris would really rather he just give up.  "So, you met a girl in the back alley of a club, didn't hook up with her, and are now hanging around a university to see her while writing love songs about her."   

Cris rolled his eyes, "That's not a love song."   

"It's like a love song precursor!  It's a not-quite-love-song that says some day I'm probably going to end up writing a love song for you," Dominic exclaimed dramatically.  Cris laughed and shook his head, looking over his shoulder at Soren who simply shook his head, obviously disappointed at Cris.  He swallowed hard and turned back to Dominic, "Are we ever going to get to meet her?"   

Soren's fingers hesitated between one note and the next, barely noticeable but Cris caught it, glancing over at Soren briefly before focusing on Dominic, hesitating.  There was no reason he hadn't told the boys; it wasn't that he didn't trust them because they were his family and best friends, he'd trust them with his life.  There just had never been a reason to; when they'd all first met and started together as a band, he'd had a boyfriend, but they hadn't been together long and didn't really plan to be if the band went anywhere.  They'd both been young and had no interest in trying to work out a long distance relationship that would always be under scrutiny; the ink on Breaking Fourth's record contract wasn't even dry when the pair had broken up on the heels of a pressing meeting with the young band's management and label who'd warned about 'discretion' since his sexuality could be 'detrimental' to the band's success.  Cris had assured them that it wasn't a big deal, he wasn't gay, and he and Luke had an expiration date anyway.   

They'd been doubtful, but for three years, his sexuality hadn't been a big deal.  He was too busy to date and had never met anyone he wanted to.  He'd gone a few dates with women, slept with a few women and a few men, but he'd kept all of his _actual_ hook-ups discreet, the ones with guys being just as closeted as himself.  It hadn't been a big deal, and there'd been no reason to tell the boys because it wasn't something Cris even thought about.  The label and the band were making money.  Management was happy that Cris was playing nice and allowing them to exaggerate his relationships with women, a gross overcompensation for his flip-flopping sexuality.  And Cris didn't bother with introductions or admittances to the boys since it hadn't mattered anyways.   

Irial was different, though.   

Cris glanced down at the sheets of music with his song it, tapping his fingers on it, unhappy and unsettled.  He'd read once that guys could tell if they'd marry someone within ten minutes of knowing them, which he'd never really believed until he met Irial.  He knew that he was a romantic, but even if he hadn't been he'd have known that about Irial.  Cris was a flirt.  Cris was tactile.  Cris was charming and good with people.  But he'd never been as immediately into someone, connected with them as easily as Irial; tactile as he was, Cris had to constantly remind himself that Irial was basically a stranger, a stranger who didn't know Cris well enough for Cris to invade his personal space, hold his hand, throw an arm over his shoulder and tuck him into Cris's side, or feel his lips skim over his skin.  Somehow, though, it didn't matter, because as much as he tried to hold himself back, Irial recognized Cris's need to constantly be touching, both allowing and encouraging Cris to do just that, melting under his touch even as he tossed some sarcastic witticism about Cris's tactile nature.   

The pair of them were completely different.  Cris was serene, and Irial was chaotic.  Cris would rather lie badly to protect someone's feelings while Irial spoke the truth blatantly, loudly without reservation.  Cris preferred absolute privacy and cringed under criticism; Irial put his whole life on display and dared people to judge him.  Cris sprawled and touched, prying into the lives of everyone he met just to find out who they are whereas Irial seemed to curl into himself, keeping his hands and emotions to himself, avoiding digging too deeply into people.  Cris was all facade and vulnerability while Irial was raw and hardened.   

Cris couldn't explain why they got along as well as they did, why Cris was as enamored with Irial as he was.  He couldn't explain why he couldn't go an hour without word from him since he'd spent Friday snuggled into Irial's side on the couch, making pointed snide comments about Les Miserables and Googling lyrics to the songs so he could sing along just to provoke a reaction from Irial who always had them readily available and in spades.  He certainly couldn't explain why every one of Irial's rare covert compliments made Cris glow, why he all but begged for Irial's whole attention and blossomed when he had it, or why he absolutely craved the heart pounding, butterflies in his stomach, skin tingling that every touch from Irial gave him, but he did.   

There was absolutely zero doubt in his mind that he wanted Irial in every way possible.  He wanted to know about his past and what he was majoring in and why he'd chose Middlesex and what he wanted to do after uni.  He wanted to integrate the boy into his life.  He wanted to meet Irial's flatmates and best friends and introduce him to the boys and Soren.  Cris wanted to run his hands over Irial's pale, lightly freckled skin, trail kisses down the column of his throat, and breathe him in, push him over the edge, and bring him back to long, lingering kisses.   

But Cris was well aware that he couldn't have everything he wanted, and he couldn't have Irial.   

"No," Cris said flatly, shaking his head and running a shaking hand through his hair, "probably not.  It's not...we're not like that."   

Soren frowned at Cris, but Cris refused to meet his gaze while Dominic just cocked his head and studied Cris for a moment before replying, "I'm sure she'll come around, Cris.  You're nothing if not persistent."   

Cris smiled gratefully, thankful for his friend's attempt to make him feel better but highly doubtful that he was right.  Irial was just so...Irial.  Sarcastic and imperious and detached from his emotions, so much so that he didn't even seem to realize, and so totally and completely uninterested in Cris.  Every time Cris seemed to get any sort of reaction from Irial, he took about a million steps back from the situation, shutting Cris down and putting as much physical and emotional distance between them as humanly possible; it was depressing.   

His phone chimed suddenly, and Cris shook off his melancholia, pulling the mobile out of his pocket and smiling automatically when he saw Irial's name flashing on the screen.  He saw Dominic roll his eyes out of the corner of his eyes, and he leaned forward to ruffle Cris's hair before hopping up and walking to Soren, muttering, "So gone on this, girl already."   

Cris grimaced.

**Irial** : I got elbowed in the face. Is it illegal to break the defender's collarbone for mucking up my ravishing good looks?

Laughing, Cris shook his head at Irial's dramatics.  He couldn't imagine the hit was too bad if he has enough energy to feel bloodlust over it.  Besides, he hadn't been carted off to the hospital.  The worst drama queen probably had was a bruise.

**Crispin** : In England or football?

**Irial** : Both? I can take a bat to his ugly mug after the match.

**Crispin** : I'm not bailing you out.

**Irial** : It's alright as long as you come for conjugal visits. I'll need an STD free partner. You think I could rock a jail tat? It'll make me look tough.

**Crispin** : You're an elf, Iri. A jail tat would make you look like 12 yr old that went a little crazy with the Sharpies.  
  
 **Irial** : Mate, I'm about to meet the toughest criminals in London. It wouldn't do well to insult me.  
  
 **Crispin** : I've got good security. You don't scare me. Besides, how do you plan on paying for a hit?  
  
 **Irial** : I'm gay. It's an all male prison. I'd pay in sexual favors, of course.

Reaching out for the water bottle, Crispin shook his head, a smile spreading across his face.  Irial was so weird.  And random.  And crude, verging on uncomfortable.  He was way too comfortable spewing sexual commentary from what Crispin could tell; his Twitter was documented proof of that.  Not that the Tweets were explicit per say; they were just also brutally honest, especially when they were about his roommates.  It was probably better for his flatmates that Irial's Twitter and campus radio show was anonymous since their sexual activities featured quite heavily in his messages.

**Crispin** : Look at you all ready to join the world's oldest career

**Irial** : Yeah...no. Sigh, no beating up the defenders second half then?

**Crispin** : Sounds like a plan. Good luck

**Irial** : :)

With a sigh, Cris switched his phone into hibernation, leaning back in the chair and frowning down at the pages of sheet notes in front of him.  He could feel Soren and Dominic's eyes on him, but he ignored both of them, eyes flicking over the lyrics, wondering if maybe they'd been a little too honest and if he actually wanted the song on the album, knowing he'd have to spend at least the next three years of his life singing about his unrequited crush on Irial.

> _It's hard to breathe with how much I want you_   
> _Life of the party, wish I could be in your view_   
> _No need to wonder, every word you say is true_   
> _I know it's crazy, but I think that I could love you_

* * *

"I thought you said you hated football," Harry remarked, shooting Rosie a sideways glance as one of the opposing team's defenders, freshly showered and dressed down for the trip back, passed by them, bag thrown over his shoulder.

Irial smirked at Rosie who shot Harry an incredulous look before rolling her eyes and throwing her hands up in the air.  "It's the _principle_ , Harold.  Sure, I think football is boring to watch as all get out...unless it's the Olympic matches, those are always fun."   

Scowling, Irial added, "That's the _Olympics_.  Even weightlifting is entertaining during the Olympics."   

"True," Rosie allowed dismissively before turning back to Harry, "but that punk ass little bitch _elbowed_ Irial in the _face_.  And he didn't even get _carded_ for it!"   

Harry shook his head at Rosie, "It was an accident.  He didn't even know Iri was there."   

Rosie held up a hand, stopping him, "That's enough out of you, Harold.  You're siding with the enemy."   

Irial laughed at Rosie while Harry just huffed at her, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at her.  Quickly, Irial typed out both a text and a Tweet, only half paying attention to the pair's little tiff.

**Irial** : We are the CHAMPIONS! No time for losers 'cause we are the champions of the WORLD!!!!  
  
 **Crispin** : Lol, the world? Am I friends with a World Cup champion?  
  
 **Irial** : Cheeky little shit. Let me ride my winners high.  
  
 **Crispin** : Haha don't die of alcohol poisoning.  
  
He stuck his tongue out, snapping a picture and sending it Crispin so he could experience the full weight of Irial's opinion on his commentary.  Rosie and Harry continued, going back and forth on the merits of interpreting intention when making calls in sports, the conversation devolving into rapidly dangerous territory when he brought up hockey to site as a reference.  Naturally that shifted to talking about intentions in relationships, which hit a little too close to Rosie's rather explosive end to her six month relationship first year with Andrew Harper, the hockey alternate captain and how they'd ended due to 'misinterpretation'.  Really, Harry was trying to die today.

**Dorian Grey II (DorianII)**  
#ShoutOut to Mdx football team for winning their fourth consecutive games. Now who's ready for the after party?  
   

Switching his mobile off, Irial stuck it in his back pocket, throwing his arms around his two friend's necks, wedging himself between them and effectively ending the argument, a broad smile on his face.   

"Alright children, if you're quite finished.  We have an after party to get ready for," Irial sing-songed.   

Rosie glanced sideways at him, "We have classes tomorrow."   

"We _won_.  I got elbowed in the face trying to make a play, and then managed to deke around that fucker and score the game winning goal.  So, yes, _after party_ because I and my face deserve the free booze very much, thank you."   

Harry shook his head while Rosie pouted, "But... _sleep_."   

"But my _face_ , my beautiful, wonderful, muse-worthy, ruggedly handsome face," Irial whined theatrically in response.   

Rosie raised an eyebrow while even happy-go-lucky, kindhearted Harry tried to cover up a snicker.  Irial sighed at his friends and glowered at the two of them, "Fine.  Don't come then.  I'll go alone.  Possibly get hammered and then have to stumble home on the streets without anyone to help me.  Never mind that I could die or kidnapped or god forbid roofied."   

Shrugging, Rosie looked over at Harry, "You can cover the other half of the rent, right?"  Harry shrugged and nodded while Irial swatted her in the side.  And she laughed, ducking behind to hide on Harry's other side before saying, "Looks like we have to go, can't leave Robert Downey Jr. here alone, or he'll be crawling into kids rooms thinking it's our flat."   

"I resent that!"  Irial shrieked, "He's reformed.  And I'm just a... _connoisseur_ of fine alcoholic beverages."   

Rosie snorted, "'Fine alcoholic beverages'?  We're going to a glorified frat party.  You'll be lucky if they have bottles of beer instead of a keg of the cheap shit and paper cups."   

"He's just going there to find tonight's shag in any case," Harry replied.   

Irial paused, pursing his lips and ignoring the weird way his stomach churned at those words; he hesitated before forcing himself to say, "Quite."   

Not five seconds later his phone pinged in his pocket, and he pulled it out, ignoring the way his breath caught in his throat for just a moment, heart speeding from excitement, and stomach fluttering when he saw who it was from.  Irial was not about to become some walking, talking cliche.

**Crispin** : That's attractive. How do you find so many people to actually snog you again?   

Irial laughed automatically, pausing and looking up to find both his friends staring at him questioningly.  He shook his head at their expressions, not bothering to answer the pair of unspoken questions.

**Irial** : Touche princess.   

Harry peered over at the screen, and Irial switched his mobile off quickly, giving Harry an annoyed look while Rosie hummed thoughtfully.   

_Well that's never good._

"Thought he didn't have your number.  Thought you were trying not to sleep with straight eighteen year old popstars in boybands that you actually find mildly interesting?"  Rosie prompted, blinking down at Irial with a beatific smile.   

Shooting her a withering glare, Irial marched onwards, letting the pair of them trail behind him, though he still didn't miss the looks they shot each other as he did so.  Honestly, Harry and Rosie were about a subtle as a sledgehammer...or a wrecking ball...or something equally as painfully, obviously loud, noticeable, and possibly destructive.   

"We're not shagging and have never shagged and will never shag, because, yes, not even I am masochistic enough to get all fixated on some hyper-hetereosexual teen heartthrob boybander even if he's endearingly awkwardly charming and irritatingly persistent with a fantastic bum and abs I just want to lick," Irial insisted, paused, sighed.  That hadn't come out quite the way he'd wanted it to.   

Rosie pursed her lips and tilted her head, "Well that escalated quickly."   

Harry snorted, "I'm just glad he said 'abs'."   

Irial shot him a dirty look, and Rosie narrowed her eyes on him, asking sweetly, "Does his sudden possession of your phone number and your fond commentary on his persistence and charm have anything to do with why he's officially following you on Twitter and was spotted bumming around campus a couple days ago?"   

A beat of silence.   

"No," Irial shook his head, "I mean...maybe a little?"   

"Was he the one who ate half of my moo shu pork?"  Rosie demanded.   

Irial sighed and ran a hand over his face, exhausted, "You need to let that go, honestly."   

"Iri-—" Harry hedged carefully, but Irial held up a hand, cutting him off before he could continue down that particular path.   

"No, let's go back to the flat, get changed, and then go to the party where I will get drunk, snog a few pretty boys, and then get shagged so I'm not so utterly strung out the rest of the week, yeah?  Great, thanks, off we go," Irial said, walking towards the underground at a brisk pace, steadfastly ignoring the way his stomach twisted at his own words.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Irial might be my favorite character I've ever written. He's just so much fun to write. I don't know :)


	8. "crushcrushcrush" Paramore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is texting under the table, pointed ribbing from interviewers, and definite Twitter flirtations

To: chriscrossedmicah@gmail.com.uk; djkinsey@gmail.com.uk; mustlovedogs@gmail.com.uk; crossesoflead@gmail.com.uk  
From: sawyer.ashton@dissisdentmanagement.org.uk  
Subject: Alyce & Jameson Radio Interview  
Just a reminder that tomorrow, Thursday, October 23, you have an interview with Alyce Peterson and Jameson Blake at 11:00 a.m.  You'll be expected to arrive by 10:15 a.m. the latest for prep.  The interview will be a livestream as well.  If you have any questions about the actual interview feel free to shoot me an email as for the address or other details, check the attachment.  
Ashton Sawyer  
Dissident Management  
  
 **Text Message from Benji to Cris**  
 **Benji** : Hope you're up  
 **Cris** : I wish I wasn't. Too late to bail?  
 **Benji** : Management would eat you  
 **Cris** : I could have the flu. 'Tis the season  
 **Benji** : It's October. I think you're early.  And when's the last time you got sick?  
 **Cris** : Third grade...curse of a good immune system  
 **Benji** : You don't even appreciate it. Know I hate you  
 **Cris** : :P  
  
 **Breaking Fourth (@breakingfourth)**  
Don't forget to listen in to our interview with @AlyceAndJameson or watch it on livestream  
  
 **Chat between Harry, Rosie, and Irial**  
 **Harry** : Are we throwing the Halloween party this year?  
 **Rosie** : 'we'? You don't live with us  
 **Harry** : I sleep in your bed, have clothes in your closet, and do your laundry.  
 **Rosie** : Ok point made. Idk, are we?  
Irial: I think Stephen's stalking me.  
 **Rosie** : Who's Stephen?  
 **Harry** : I thought you were dating.  
 **Irial** : WHAT????  
 **Harry** : That's what he's been saying  
 **Rosie** : Oh...the weird ex-football after party shag. Two words: restraining order  
 **Harry** : He's a bit of a creep.  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
Yes I am blasting 'Single' by Natasha Bedingfield. My stalker doesn't seem to be getting the memo

* * *

Cris wouldn't say that he _hated_ interviews, but he certainly could think of about a million other things to do on a surprisingly clear and mild fall day in London besides sit in a studio answering the same questions over and over again.  When they took fan questions, things tended to get interesting enough for Cris to actually become amused, having a little bit of fun with his best friends, but, for the most part, he fluctuated between bored, uncomfortable, and just downright exasperated with the occasional streak of annoyance, and, frankly, none of the other boys were much better.   

Slumping in his chair, Cris used one foot to swivel back and forth in his chair, trying not to project how utterly annoyed he was, though, given the looks management kept shooting him and Micah's occasionally amused glances, he probably wasn't doing the best job.  Beside him, Benji poked him in the side and pulled a funny face, and Cris ducked his head, hand coming up to hide his smile while the other one shot out to slap Benji's side.   

"How've you boys been then, settling back into London life?"  Alyce asked.   

Alyce Peterson and Jameson Blake liked the boys well enough, and Breaking Fourth reciprocated.  Alyce tended to be the "good cop" of the two, asking the stereotypical questions that made Cris want to pull his hair out.  She looked like a fairy all dainty and pale, porcelain skin, cornsilk hair cut into a wispy pixie cut, probably the same height if just shorter than Irial's 5'4", not that Cris was thinking about Iri.  He wasn't.  Jameson, on the other hand, definitely played the "bad cop", pressing points probably better left alone, asking questions no one wanted to answer and making snide comments about their responses.  That man stood almost a good two inches over Cris's six foot frame, all corded muscle, scarred skin, and red hair buzzed, a thick Cockney accent not even remotely making him any less intimidating.   

"We've only been back a little more than three weeks," Micah replied with a shrug, "and, I don't know, I'd say it's been a bit of an adjustment."   

"Oh?" Jameson pressed, "Missing tour buses and screaming girls?"   

"For sure!" Dominic laughed, and Cris bowed his head, smiling into his lap and shaking his head.  Dominic continued, "No, but I mean, it's like...you're living with three guys and your crew and your management and everyone for months, and then all the sudden you're not.  It's just...weird?"  He turned to the other boys for help.   

Cris nodded, "Yeah, it's not like we never see each other.  We've basically been at the studio every day since we got back, wrapping up the album and stuff, but then we go home and it's just quiet.  Like I'm in my flat playing music probably a bit too loud because I'm just so used to someone talking all hours of the day."   

Not strictly true, it had been, but now, he tended to spend hours texting or Skyping with Irial.  Only yesterday, he'd spent almost the whole night on Skype with Irial while they both watched a hockey game from their respective homes, spending intermissions quizzing Irial on current events in the media industry for his Media Events course.  That had quickly devolved into whether or not paparazzi had the right to pry into the lives of celebrities, which Irial said 'yes' and Cris replied 'hell no'.  And somehow, they'd managed to have three conversations at once about how sucky Irial's hockey team's defense was, what the difference was between paparazzi and media (if there was one), and why neither of them could have any pets.   

"And you're all living alone and feeling the acute depression of being a lonely male in the cold wide world?"  Jameson prompted while Alyce laughed airily.   

"I wouldn't say _that_ ," Micah scoffed.   

"He wouldn't," Dominic remarked, grinning at Micah, "because he's off shacking up with his girlfriend.  The rest of us have to manage on your own."   

"So you miss being around the boys, then?"  Alyce inquired.   

Micah made a face, and Jameson laughed, pointing at him, "Look at that face, I'd imagine you wouldn't, Micah mate.  But the rest of you?"   

"I haven't a chance," Benji admitted, shrugging.  "I've actually been commuting back into the city and staying with my family.  It's been great being home."   

"Lucky arse," Dominic said to Benji who stuck his tongue out at Dominic.  Micah shook his head at their antics while Cris just smiled at the pair fondly.  "My family's out in Wales, bit longer of a commute than _Kingston_."  He shot Benji a look.   

Benji laughed, "Tough luck, mate."   

Dominic shrugged and grinned, "So it's just been me all alone in my flat."   

Micah rolled his eyes, and Cris scoffed, "You've been at my flat every other day to crash."   

"Oh yeah?  Slumber parties, boys?"  Jameson asked.   

"Babysitting," Cris corrected, shaking his head while Dominic smiled sheepishly and shrugged.  "This one shows up at my door four times a week past midnight and asks me for peanut butter and jelly, tea, and a Star Wars buddy.  I'm a good friend."   

"Better than me, mate," Micah said, laughing and shaking his head.   

Benji echoed the sentiment, "Some of us don't have the energy for late night geek time."   

"This from the boy who skipped practice in Minneapolis to go see the latest Hobbit release," Dominic remarked.   

"And re-watched the whole series before the premiere," Cris pointed out.   

Alyce and Jameson laughed while Benji just scowled playfully at Cris and Dominic who shook their heads at him.  Alyce rolled her eyes, "Alright, sadly we have to take a break, but stay tuned we're in studio with Breaking Fourth," the boys cheered sarcastically, and Jameson shook his head while Alyce laughed again, "talking about their latest gossip, answering fan questions, and talking about their upcoming single release.  Also check out the livestream of the broadcast.  We'll be back."   

Cris leaned back in his seat while Dominic turned to Alyce and Jameson, starting up a conversation about Alyce's upcoming nuptials and Jameson's apparent hook-up with some Victoria's Secret model.  Benji and Micah meanwhile picked up their own conversation about Micah's cooking debacle and Benji nearly causing a riot on the Kingston University campus where his mother taught when he'd gone in to bring her lunch.  Glancing at the camera, Cris reached across the table and buried his nose in his cell phone, frowning when he clicked on Twitter and saw Irial's Tweet from earlier that day.   

Before he could even check himself, he was texting.

**Crispin** : Do I even want to know what that Tweet's about?   

Not ten seconds after he'd sent the message did he remember to check the time, making a face when he realized Irial was probably busy taping his own radio show back on campus.  It was unfortunate, especially since the Tweet had left a heavy, weighted feeling in the pit of Cris's stomach.  _Who the hell was stalking Irial?_   Despite this, he actually received an answer almost immediately.

**Irial** : I have bad taste in shags.  He won't go away!!!!!

**Crispin** : Have you tried asking?

**Irial** : Figured it was a given when I called campus police to have him removed

**Irial** : Besides what if he's seriously unstable and like kidnaps me or something so I'll love him?

Cris started laughing, ignoring the looks everyone sent his way.  He blushed and ducked his head, not meeting anyone's gaze as he typed out a reply.

**Crispin** : Drama queen. You think you're that much of a catch?

**Irial** : Don't even front. You know you want this

_Yes, I really do._  

Swallowing and grimacing, Cris sighed and ran a hand through his hair before halting mid-gesture.  He didn't even need to look up to know that the band's hair stylist, Miranda, was no doubt pinning him with a gaze so lethal she'd make Cyclops look like a harbinger of kindness, kittens, and happiness.  He let out a breath, shaky and a little jagged, feeling Benji's worried gaze on him.  Cris wouldn't make eye contact, and he saw Micah and Benji exchange worried looks from the corner of his eye.

**Crispin** : Like a dog wants fleas & aren't you supposed to be doing a radio show

**Irial** : Dogs and fleas? That's the best you could come up with? I'm disappointed princess

**Irial** : And I'll have you know right now my listeners are enjoying the dulcet tones of 'Lights' by international boyband sensation Breaking Fourth while I read through the Twitter questions and figure out who I'm gonna answer.  
  
 **Irial** : I'm blaming you for all these 'OMG YOU KNOW CRIS EMERSON' ones.   

Frowning, Cris darted back to Twitter, glancing up and scrolling quickly when he realized they were about to go back on air.   

Irial might have had a little bit of a point about all the Twitter comments.  The student body of Middlesex loved Dorian, Irial's radio and Twitter alter ego, despite any ties he had to Cris.  That being said, Irial's over 50K followers had doubled in the last week, curious band fans following Irial when they'd noticed Crispin had not only followed him but mentioned him in what had probably already become a pretty infamous Tweet talking about finding him being serendipitous.  Curiosity had only grown when Irial had finally given into temptation and responded to Cris; since then, they been shooting off Tweets back and forth between each other with unexpected frequency.  Cris liked Twitter well enough, but he'd never really needed to live on it the way Irial did.  He'd adjusted though and become unnervingly accustomed to using Snapchat, texts, and Twitter just to have a conversation with Irial.   

Their Twitter flirtations and habit of posting up weirdly pointed comments with obvious backstories had only helped #WhoIsDorian trend for two days straight.   

Now, apparently, the Breaking Fourth fans had besieged the #dorianspeaks and #askdorian hashtags, trying to figure out his connection to Cris and if he and Irial were really friends or not.  Cris found it amusing.  Irial may or may not have, judging by his most recent Tweet, hard to tell knowing how sarcastic he was.

**Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
The Breakers are spamming me!!! @Cris_Emerson is a troll   

Cris's lips quirked into a smile, and he started to send out another Tweet when his phone buzzed again.

**Irial** : & touche popstar. Yours is being filmed

**Crispin** : ...these are not the droids you're looking for

**Irial** : lol you're such a geek. Don't get in trouble love   

Wrinkling his nose, Cris stuck his tongue out at the phone, snapping a picture and sending it to Irial via Snapchat, way too accustomed to flipping between apps now that he and Irial talked near constantly.  Dominic cleared his throat, and Cris looked over at him, rolling his eyes when Dominic waggled his eyebrows.  He blushed and elbowed his friend in the side, muttering, "Shut up."   

Benji leaned over to whisper in his ear, "Secret girlfriend, Crissy?" Cris blushed and shook his head.  "Boyfriend?"  Cris froze despite the teasing lilt the Benji's voice, eyes darting over to their management.  "Asexual sex partner from Kathmandu?"   

Cris looked from him to Micah, who shrugged helplessly, "That makes no sense."   

"We'll get it out of you sooner or later," Benji narrowed his eyes playfully, pointing a finger at Cris who just rolled his eyes and whipped his head around quickly, clocking Benji with the end of his hair.  Benji sputtered and coughed; Dominic laughed while Cris tossed him an innocent smile.   

"And we're back in studio with the very...um..." Jameson frowned, looking up thoughtfully.   

"Amusing, Jamie," Alyce replied smoothly, elbowing his playfully, "amusing lads."   

"Right, absolutely what I was going to say. _Amusing_ lads from Breaking Fourth.  Thank you, Alyce."   

"You're quite welcome."   

Cris's phone buzzed in his lap, and he glanced down at the screen, raising an eyebrow.

**Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
@Cris_Emerson is harassing me. Some of us actually work, you know   

He'd somehow managed to screenshot the picture of Cris sticking his tongue out, posting it up on Instagram and linking it to his  Tweet.  Cris looked up, checking that no one was watching as he sent off a quick Tweet, only half-listening to Micah and Dominic go back and forth about their North American tour, the "Breakers" (their fan base's nickname), and how the sound of the new album had changed in comparison to the last one.

**Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@DorianII you're talking about Potter, right? Since when did my trophy wife start working?   

_That_ had been a weird conversation for sure that had come off Irial drunk dialing him after Potter had dropped him off at home and then left to spend a rare night in his own flat.  Irial had been hungry and alone, talking about how he had no employable skill set, was lazy and bitchy and would end up living in a cardboard box on the side of the road for the rest of his life.  Cris had spent nearly an hour assuring him that he wouldn't let that happen, that Cris would take him in and let him be Cris's trophy wife so that Irial didn't have to eat rotten apples he'd found in the dumpster and bathe in the Thames.   

Benji poked Cris's thigh, finger flicking in their management's direction, and Cris nodded, slipping the phone between his thighs and turning his attention back to their interviewers who had, it seemed, started in on the fan questions.   

"So @CrissysGirl87 wants to know who your favorite song off of the new album is," Alyce pursed her lips and nodded, looking up at them.  And all of the boys seemed to pause, looking thoughtful.  Alyce shared a look with Jameson before pressing, "So, do you have a favorite off the album?"   

"Well, it's not completely finished," Micah reminded her.   

Jameson nodded, "So far then?"   

"We have all the songs done, right?" Benji asked Micah who shrugged.   

Cris nodded, "Yeah, what we looked at yesterday is it."   

Benji mirrored Cris's nod before rolling back his shoulder, determined, "Alright, then, I'm gonna have to go with 'Snow'.  Cris and Nic wrote it with Soren Reid, and I think it's brilliant.  A little sad but with just that sliver...um...hope, I think."   

Pursing his lips, Cris said, "Well, I like 'Mirrors'."   

"Yeah, 'Mirrors' is a good one," Micah nodded thoughtfully before shaking his head, "but I think I'm gonna have to go with 'Wish You Well' on this one boys.  It's just...I don't...speaks to me."  He grinned, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth.   

Benji made a 'what the hell are you talking about' face, and Cris just blinked at Micah whose smile widened as Cris shook his head.  Dominic rolled his eyes, glancing at Cris with mischievous glint in his eye; Cris narrowed his eyes on Dominic who only smirked and said, "I think my favorite is our little Crissy's love song."   

Benji started laughing while Micah yelled, "Yeah!"   

Cris blushed while Jameson grinned, "Writing love songs now are we, Cris?"   

"It's not a love song," Cris said sheepishly, face heating up even more.   

The boys made a noise of disagreement, and Cris bowed his head, smiling but embarrassed as he shook his head.  Alyce laughed delightedly, "'Not a love' songs.  Secret outings around London...."   

"Texting under the table,"  Jameson said pointedly.   

Cris shook his head, cheeks flaming and an embarrassed smile spread across his face.  Alyce winked at him, "Sure there's nothing you want to talk to us about?"   

"I was texting my mate," Cris said weakly.   

"Your mate?"  Dominic said suggestively.   

Cris shoved his shoulder, shaking his head, "Yeah, my mate.  We're just really close friends."   

"Oh?"  Alyce said, smiling at Jameson.   

"Like Louis and Harold?"  Jameson laughed.   

Biting his lip, Cris shook his head and laughed, "Decidedly not."     

Benji threw an arm around Cris's shoulder and fluttered his eyelashes at him, "Crissy would never cheat on me?  Would you snookums."   

"Course not," Cris said, feeling back on normal footing.  Everyone laughed, and he grinned, relaxing slightly, "No, but, there's seriously no girlfriend and no love song, and Dominic needs to stop telling lies before someone reports I'm dating my sister again."   

The boys all roared with laughter while Cris just shook his head, unimpressed.  Alyce giggled while Jameson said, "Yeah, I heard about that.  How was that?"   

"Weird," Cris admitted, deadpanned, "I got this phone call at like eight at night in the middle of a club from Ariella who opens with 'Since when do we shag 'cause I definitely would have remembered that.'"  The boys were dying of laughter, faces red, struggling for breath, obviously remembering the way Cris had spit his whiskey sour all over his date, Kerry Torrence, an on-the-rise English actress in one of those period pieces Cris never watched.  "My mum sat us down and had a _long_ talk with us about filial love versus romantic love, and it was joke but it was still really weird.  We couldn't look at each other for like a week without getting all awkward."   

"Right funny that was," Dominic got out between guffaws of laughter, which only made Benji and Micah laugh harder.   

Cris pursed his lips and shook his head.  Jameson managed to compose himself enough to nudge a breathless Alyce for the next question; she inhaled deeply, getting out her last giggles before asking, "So I hear there's a single coming out soon."   

Micah nodded, but, as the boys were all still catching their breaths and settling down, Cris answered, "Yeah, we're releasing Micah's favorite song.  Also, coincidentally, the one he poured his heart and soul into writing—"   

"Nepotism," Jameson shook his head.   

Cris nodded while Micah stuck his tongue out at Cris, "Exactly.  'Wish You Well' is coming out...in two weeks, I think?  Maybe three?  Some time after Halloween."   

"And we start shooting the video Monday," Micah remarked.  Cris, Dominic, and Benji nodded their heads.   

"Meeting about tracklist Saturday, but we have Sunday off," Benji reminded everyone.   

"Well," Alyce said, eyebrows raised, "quite the busy boys aren't you?"   

The boys laughed and nodded, bodies coiled tightly, "Yeah."  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could actually use real in existence like interviewers for this story...but I feel uncomfortable writing about real people. I don't know them like that. So I won't. A lot of the places they eat at, though, are real, because I have an obsession with research and accuracy even in fun fiction that I really just write to get it out of me.


	9. "Punk Rock Princess" Something Corporate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irial makes out with his stalker, has no sense of self-preservation, and gives a drunken confession in a random McDonalds.

**Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
@Cris_Emerson makes such a pretty princess  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@DorianII is my elf on a shelf :P  
  
 **Angel Kinsey (@Angelika8712xx)**  
OMG @Cris_Emerson is Jasmine for Halloween #CrisEmerson #PrincessJasmine #LOL  
  
 **Haley <3 (@HaleysComet)**  
There goes @Cris_Emerson dressing in drag again ;D #lml #CrisEmerson #HeSoGay  
  
 **Sara Luvs the V (@bravery022214)**  
Holy fuck are @DorianII and @Cris_Emerson legit friends??? #OMG #CrisEmerson #DorianII #LifeOver #ICantEvenBreathe #dorianspeaks  
  
 **Crissy Girl (@campcrissy)**  
Can someone please tell me who @DorianII is? #WhoIsDorian #DorianII #CrisEmerson  
  
 **A Secret Romance for Cris Emerson?**  
Eighteen-year-old singer, Cris Emerson, of boyband, Breaking Fourth, has seen more than his share of romances already from Spanish soap opera star, Raquel Delgado, to supermodel, Lavonne, to Canadian starlet, Joanna Brom.  While high-profile flings are his usual MO, these days he seems to be switching it up.  Since returning to London to finish recording the band's second album and tape their music video, he's been spotted several times in Hendon and Middlesex, disappearing only to reappear at his Chelsea flat in the wee hours of the morning.  While the ladies' man and party boy has denied rumors of romance, his own bandmates seem to agree young Cris Emerson has, at least, got himself a crush, writing love songs and texting during interviews.  Here's to hoping we get a glimpse of this girl at the band's upcoming Halloween party, safe to say we all want to see that.  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
Stoked for the Halloween bash tonight! But shame on me for letting a tasteless man pick out my ensemble #LittlestElf #ThisIsNotOkay #LookSoGay  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@DorianII you're just jealous you're not a princess #DontBeJelly #NotAGoodLook  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
Knights have more fun & someone has to save @Cris_Emerson from roaches  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@DorianII: my hero ;)

* * *

In hindsight, maybe basically becoming conjoined to a guy he really wanted to shag until neither of them could remember their names might not have been the best idea.... _maybe_.   

Irial was wired and strung out like he'd been constantly high all week and was just now coming down from it, detoxing, which may actually have been closer to the truth than he really cared to think about.  The past week alone had basically been Crispin-centric with a near constant stream of texts, Snapchats, and Tweets back and forth only stopping when he had class or Crispin had some work-related thing, but even then that radio silence barely lasted an hour uninterrupted.  Not to mention, Crispin had somehow found a way to sneak over, trailing him home from work like the little lost puppy he was and chilling in the flat commentating of Irial's "sad taste" in movies, watching bad reality television while tidying up (much to Irial's chagrin), and baking cupcakes and banana bread and even fresh cinnamon rolls while singing along to Irial's 80s playlist.   

Being around Crispin was both a blessing and a curse, he'd noticed.  He basked in Crispin's company, enjoyed their banter and the way Irial could just be himself, uncensored, knowing that Crispin shrugged everything off, never taking anything as an actual personal assault while Crispin exuded calm and content, slowing down a fast-paced, always moving Irial enough to actually sit through a Real Housewives marathon without simultaneously responding to his mentions on Twitter.  But Crispin was just so _tactile_ ; he craved being in constant contact with another person, blossomed under the lightest touch and only seemed to relax when he was sprawled across Irial's legs or sitting on the floor in front of him, leaning back against his legs with Irial's fingers carded through his hair.  Irial had long since accepted that everything about Crispin, even his abominable love of Sci-Fi flicks, turned Irial on, but the touching was slowly pushing him over the edge.  He was constantly surrounded by Crispin, his smell, his skin, his bits of clothing that he was constantly discarding to relax and then forgetting at the flat, even his freaking _baked goods_ , but Irial couldn't actually _touch_ him.   

That realization only partially explained how he'd found himself sitting on the roof of Harry's car with his stalker, Stephen Merrill, kneeling in between his legs, fists clenched in Irial's shirt, and Irial's arms thrown around his neck, one hand clenched in his hair and the other still loosely holding a cup of beer, their lips fused together and moving against each other, heady but sloppily, both of them drunk off their asses.  Stephen's tongue swept along Irial's lower lip, and he yielded, letting their tongues tangle together and groaning, pressing closer to Stephen, his cup falling from his hand so that he could grip the back of Stephen's shirt, pressing them together more tightly, not a pocket of air existing between their bodies.  The kiss was hot and dirty, frantic and almost desperate, like they were both starving for a taste of each other; their lust-filled groans drowned out the heavy bass music spilling out of the flat.   

"Irial."   

He ignored the voice, sharp and demanding, figuring it was probably just his conscience or something equally mundane, something he wanted to ignore.  He was beyond buzzed, horny out of his mind, and really just wanted a good shag to shake a certain golden-eyed, dark-haired boy from his system.  A boy who dressed like a Hipster and preferred going shirtless and shoeless even in a home that he didn't live in.  A boy who was constantly writing on his body when he got inspired and took way too many pictures of things Irial really didn't think was worth photographing.  A boy who felt bad for Jimmy Morrison because he never wanted to be a singer and watched Doctor Who religiously and actually thought Monty Python was funny.  A boy who adored animals but couldn't even have a goldfish since he was never home and always smelled like ink, paper, and fresh baked bread.  A boy who'd learned how to make Coffee Cake just because Irial was craving it.   

"Irial Mackenzie."   

The voice was sterner, but Irial didn't even flinch, biting back a moan as Stephen's mouth broke from Irial's to press biting kisses along his throat.   

Irial's heart pounded, his blood heated and rushing, his whole body overheated and overeager, wired and buzzing with how much he wanted this, needed this.  His hand yanked on Stephen's hair, pulling his head away from the column of Irial's throat so that Irial could give hime another dirty, open-mouthed kiss, that both of them were moaning into.  Stephen's hands moved from Irial's thighs, up under his shirt, hands that were just a tad too small and not nearly calloused enough from a combination of hard labor growing up on a stables out in the moorlands and years of acoustic guitar playing.   

"Irial Mackenzie Dorian!"  The voice hissed.   

Jerking away from Stephen, Irial turned to see an irate Rosie standing beside the car, arms crossed over her chest and face dark with rage.  It was a hard image to reconcile with her dressed like a crayon, but he got the message loud and clear, looking from Stephen whose eyes were glazed with lust, lips swollen and red, to Rosie who raised her eyebrows at him purposefully.  Like a cold bucket of water was dumped over his head, the lust disappeared as quickly as it had come, gut churning with guilt and sickness; he bit his bottom lip, embarrassed, but tried to play it off with a smile.   

Stephen huffed out a sigh and rested his head against Irial's stomach; Irial grimaced at how comfortable Stephen was with their current position, "Rose."   

Rosie spared Stephen a blank-faced, stony once over before turning back to Irial, "You're drunk, and this is stupid."   

"I..." Irial began, shaking his head and running a shaking hand through his short, feathery hair, glancing over at Stephen before nodding, "Yeah, okay.  I shouldn't.  Right."   

Stephen gave Irial a disbelieving look, but Irial moved around Stephen and slid off the roof, stumbling into Rosie who caught him by the arm and steadied him, studiously ignoring Stephen's mumbled comment about nosy Americans.  She shot him a triumphant look as she led Irial back to their flat, so full of their classmates that a good portion of the party had spilled outside into the driveway.  Irial stumbled into a group of guys, leaning against the wall dividing the driveways and laughing a little too loudly, drinks in hand.   

The team's goalie grabbed Irial arm and grinned, leaning down to yell over the music, "Great party yet again, Iri."   

"Glad someone's having fun.  You find Janie, yet?"   

"Nah, but I will, never you mind," Sean winked.  "What about you?  Where's your _boyfriend_?"  Sean teased, the football team having been well versed in Irial's Stephen drama when he'd crashed a practice.   

"Drowning in tears," Rosie remarked from beside Irial who scowled.   

"Cockblocker," Irial lamented.   

Sean laughed and went to ruffle Irial's hair when a well-placed glare halted him; he turned to Rosie, "He'll thank you in the morning."   

"I know."   

Rosie shoved Irial passed Sean and into the house, leading him through the thick crowd of sweaty, dancing people who'd all stuffed themselves into the small reception room, grinding against each other with 'Timber' by Kesha blared over the speakers Harry had 'borrowed' from his own flatmate.   

She shoved him into their small kitchen, and he weakly and rather ungracefully hopped up onto the counter, leaning against the fridge and reaching out blindly for a cup of beer.  Rosie snatched it from his hand and replaced it with water, leaning against the sink's edge and watching him flatly.  Irial watched her through narrowed, alcohol hazed eyes; Rosie reached behind him and pulled out a bag of Cheetos, offering; warily, he took some, popping them in his mouth while Rosie shook her head.   

"I don't want to see any Tweets about me being a cockblocker," Rosie warned, and Irial laughed, nodding his head.  She leaned forward and grasped his chin, forcing him to stay still and make eye contact, "Don't do this to yourself.  Stephen's not Crispin, and you both deserve better than some drunken, lustful trysts that only occur because he's there."   

"You don't even like my Crispin," Irial pouted,   

Laughing, Rosie shook her head, "I don't _know_ 'your Crispin' because you're afraid Harry and I will chase him away just by meeting him.  But I know you're gone for him.  And I know the whole world thinks he's a womanizing manwhore of the highest degree."   

"He's..." Irial trailed off, so overcome by all he things he _wanted_ to say that he simply chose to shake his head.  He dropped the water on the counter, reached for the beer and took a swig, grimacing, "And I'm not _gone_ for him.  I don't believe in all that love at first sight bullshit.  I just...but he's so...I'm not gonna be some experiment.  Think I like him too much for that.  Like _me_ too much for that."   

"What if you're not?  An experiment.  What if he's like me?  What if he's like _you_?  What if he's like Harry?"   

"Not everyone's kinky like our flat is," Irial sagged in defeat, running a hand over his face.   

Rosie barked out a laugh and shook her head, "I don't think anyone's as sexually liberal as our flat is."  She smiled at Irial softly and patted his cheek, "Babe, Harry's my best friend in the whole world, and he didn't even know I had a brother until four months into knowing each other.  He sure as hell didn't spend every waking moment—and some of the sleeping ones—texting and messaging and Skyping me.  Like I don't know he's been picking you up from the coffee shop while they were shooting up in the Darlands Lake Nature Reserve and then coming back here. I mean, you burn water; I highly doubt you're capable of making Red Velvet cupcakes and banana bread.  And since when do you quote Sci-fi movies on Twitter?  And in the four weeks you've known him, you've hooked up twice and spent the whole night texting him anyway.  Maybe he is straight.  Maybe he _isn't_ interested in you.  Maybe you'll end up like Harry and me—"   

"I'd fucking _die_ ," Irial exclaimed dramatically.   

Unimpressed, Rosie shot him an annoyed look, "Don't be a dick.  And get your head screwed on right and your shit sorted before you bring anyone else into this craziness.  You're a possessive little bitch that's hung up on a closeted popstar.  I'm not even dating you, and I have a headache."   

Irial groaned, "I think I'm drunker than I thought."   

Snorting, Rosie shook her head, "It might help if you stopped drinking."   

He waved her off, and Rosie scoffed, slapping his knee; Irial winkled his nose and took another swig of his beer, pulling out his phone and composing a quick Tweet, not realizing how indirect whiny it was until he'd finished.

**Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
Someday my prince will come someday ill find a love and how thrilling that moment will be when the prince of my dreams comes to me!!!

He frowned at the Tweet not a minute after he'd sent it, fingering hovering over the button to delete it.  Rosie grinned at him, rolling her eyes and taking the beer from his hand, switching it for the water again.  Before Irial could respond, his phone rang, 'Hello' by Karmin echoing through the narrow kitchen and making Rosie roll her eyes yet again.   

She nudged Irial, "Have fun talking to lover boy."   

Irial flipped her off and turned back to his phone.

**Crispin:** Meet me somewhere?

* * *

"My prince came for me!"  Irial exclaimed when he reached the McDonalds, spotting Cris despite the fact that he seemed to be aiming for incognito, slouchy beanie pulled low over his head and hood of his canvas jacket pulled up over his bowed head.  Cris looked up at Irial, face splitting into a wide smile, and Irial dropped his cigarette and stamped it out, hastily stumbling over to throw himself into Cris's arms.   

They wrapped tightly around Irial, holding his body firmly against Cris's own muscled chest.  Dipping his head, Irial buried his head into the soft material of Cris's Queen tank top, breathing in Cris's unique scent that was starting to smell disturbingly homey.  Cris kissed Irial's forehead and looked down at him, whispering teasingly, "I thought I was your princess."   

"You can be a prince, just for today," Irial replied sagely.   

Cris laughed, leaving one arm wrapped around Irial's shoulder, pressing their bodies together and tugging him to the almost deserted McDonalds, Irial's arm wrapping around his waist purely for balance, or that's at least what he told himself as his fingers slipped under the fabric of his shirt and curled over the smooth skin of his hip.  "You're _so_ drunk," Cris laughed, pulling Irial up to the counter to order.   

"'S probably 'cause I drank on the walk over," Irial said, turning his whole body, molding himself to Cris's side.   

Cris clucked his tongue, "Could've gotten hurt, Elf."   

Irial shrugged, not letting go as Cris struggled to carry the tray even with an arm wrapped around Irial.  They made their way over to the most secluded booth regardless of the room's only occupants being a pair of old men playing chess, a middle aged scruffy woman reading a paper, and the cashier and fryers who were all so engrossed in their phones they wouldn't notice if a UFO landed in the middle of the room.  Irial slid into the booth first and pulled Cris in after him, staying curled up against his side, knees pulled up between the table and his chest and Cris's arm thrown around his shoulders.   

"You don't look like a princess anymore.  I still look like an elf," Irial pouted, sipping his water and scowling at it before popping a fry into his mouth.   

"I didn't want to be noticed, and you _always_ look like an elf, Iri.  Drink your water before you die of alcohol poisoning."   

"You're not drunk at all," Irial said even as he did as instructed, his tone accusing.   

Cris smirked and bite into a chicken nugget, "Nope."   

"I hate you," Irial remarked, eyeing Cris's chocolate milkshake.   

"You don't," Cris replied smugly.   

Irial scowled, "I know.  It's bad.  You know, Rosie thinks I'm in love with you."   

Cris froze, slowly, almost mechanically, lowering the milkshake back to the table.  He took another chicken nugget, biting into it, chewing and swallowing carefully, "Oh?"   

"She cockblocked me," Irial said sadly, gazing mournfully down at the French fry in his hand.   

Inhaling evenly, Cris nodded, gripping his milkshake a tad too tightly, "That's...not very nice of her?"   

Huffing, Irial shrugged, "She thinks it's for the best.  That I shouldn't sleep with anyone just because I can't sleep with you."   

Irial didn't think it was impossible, but Cris somehow managed to grow even stiller beside him, "Why can't you—" he stopped, took a deep breath, and changed his question.  "You're _really_ drunk, aren't you?"   

Irial groaned and snagged Cris's milkshake from him, taking several long swallows before admitting, "I didn't mean to be.  I think I have a bit of a problem."   

Laughing slightly, a little bit of tension seeming to drain from his body, Cris shook his head, "You're not an alcoholic."   

"No, I want things that I can't have.  I want guys I can't have.  It's worse than Ronnie Hitchcock in seventh grade, because he wasn't nearly as attractive as you.  He also didn't completely take over my whole life.  Maybe Rosie has point.  I'm far too attached.  She should have let me hook up with Stephen."   

Cris startled and reclaimed his milkshake, "Stalker Stephen?"   

"This isn't good for me.  I'm pining.  I don't pine.  And I'm sexually frustrated.  I need to get laid again.  Often.  Regularly.  Maybe I should get a boyfriend."   

"I don't think so," Cris commented, tone glacial.   

Irial went on as if he hadn't heard him, "I'm just not sure it would work.  You're rather everywhere, aren't you.  I've only known you a month, and you're basically my best friend.  What am I going to do when you're gone?  I mean, we're not nearly as co-dependent as Rosie and Harry,  but I think we could be, probably would be if you actually were around enough.  I can't become like Rosie and Harry, though.  I'll go mad.  They're so in love with each other.  It's gross, but they won't like touch each other.  Oh my God, we're already like them.  I blame this on you.  Actually, no, wait, this is on me.  I know better.  Maybe I should go."   

"Whoa," Cris said, tightening his hold on Irial, "slow down, babe.  What are you going on about?"   

"I think I'm too drunk for this conversation," Irial said, face shutting down as he reached out for another chicken nugget.  

Cris's face looked stricken, "I don't understand why you can't...why you won't...is this about all the...stuff, because that's not me.  I don't do that, not really.  I'm not like that, Iri."   

Irial sagged against Cris but remained silent.  
  



	10. "Satellite" Rise Against

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's basically a lot jealous...and a radio show

**Breaking Fourth (@breakingfourth)**  
The simultaneous release of 'Wish You Well' single and the music video is officially out!  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
Saw @breakingfourth music video...@Cris_Emerson must be very secure in his masculinity to rock those fab turquoise pants  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@DorianII says the man with gold cheetah print super skinny jeans #JustSaying #sorrynotsorry  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
@Cris_Emerson but honey I'm gay. What's your excuse #JustSaying #sorrynotsorry  
  
To: wildechild@gmail.com.uk  
Bcc: irial.dorian@gmail.com.uk  
From: rosieireland@gmail.com  
Subject: That fucking single and other stuff  
Dorian,  
You'd better appreciate me.  It was annoyingly difficult to get my hands on this single for radio play since it was literally released like an hour ago.  Luckily, your lovely not-boyfriend seems to have pulled some strings.  Also, I'm alarmed to report the show's 60K+ audience seems to have tripled in the month and a half  (probably safe to blame your boybander). Also, your website has seen a disturbing amount of traffic and, therefore, probably your neglected Tumblr too,  Since boytoy's fangirls are rather young and vanilla can you just try to cut back on reblogging gay sex gifs please?  
Rosie  
  
To: irial.dorian@gmail.com.uk  
From: crossesoflead@gmail.com.uk  
Subject: Little scared tbh  
So...not sure I want to know why your flatmate was calling management to acquire rights to play our brand new single on your uni radio show (or how she got my number to bitch about them being "unnecessarily difficult little fuckers", but Micah and I convinced them talking about 'community service' and 'giving back to the next generation of musicians' or something like that. I really just stood there and nodded while Micah talked.  So just please don't shred me on your show...please?  
Your princess  
PS. My pants were works of art (and the consequence of a poorly advised bet)  
  
To: rosieireland@gmail.com  
Bcc: irial.dorian@gmail.com.uk  
From: wildechild@gmail.com.uk  
Subject: RE: That fucking single and other stuff  
Rosie,  
I love you forever.  You're a goddess among women (even though Crispin did most of the work but whatever).  Also, about the stats, I figured.  Even my Twitter's been spammed by those prepubescent Breaker fucks (who aren't strictly prepubescent but I digress) and who (surprisingly) seem to actually like the show.  And, seriously, I will not censor my Tumblr.  Don't kid yourself "young and vanilla", I've read some of their fanfic smut.  Little pervs more like.  
Dorian

* * *

It didn't bother Irial.   

There was no reason why it _should_ bother Irial.   

Crispin was not his.   

Correction: Cris Emerson, international popstar boyband member, did not, in fact, belong to Irial, gay anonymous radio DJ and Twitter sensation university student, physically, emotionally, or otherwise, which, of course, didn't help curb his irrational anger towards the article in question in the slightest or its subjects.   

"Iri," Harry poked his head into the booth, and Irial tore his gaze from the glossy magazine cover's uppermost left photograph, raising his eyebrows expectantly.  "Thirty seconds," he warned.   

Irial nodded, sparing the photograph one last long glance at the image, innocuous as it was.  He sighed tiredly, scrubbing his hands over his face with quick, aggressive motions before flipping over the magazine and pulling on his headphones.  The last bit of the chorus playing out as the song came to an end, the rather perfect harmony of four very different voices, which was something he'd always admired about boybands despite not thinking altogether too highly of them.

> " _Who'll love you more than I do?_  
>  _And who will stand beside you?_  
>  _Icarus is falling from the sky._ "   

The song faded out on the quartet of surprisingly raw voices, and Irial looked up to see Rosie giving him a thumbs up through the windows, and he nodded, "Welcome back...or not, depends entirely on you.  _That_ for those chosen few who exist outside the expanse of mainstream music was a tribute to the show's 12K new listeners who deify the UK's current national treasure and the song's artists, Breaking Fourth.  That, in case anyone was wondering was their new single 'Wish You Well'."  Irial paused, pursing his lips and looking up at the ceiling, shaking his head, "Yeah, that phrase was only said once in the whole song, a bit offhandedly, which, I am in fact judging a little since calling it 'Icarus is Falling' would have a) been much more relevant and b) a hell of a lot cooler.   

"Hey, though, let's be honest, if they were trying to broaden their fan base beyond fifteen year old fangirls, then I'll have to say mission achieved, right, Rosie-Posie?"  Irial looked over at the glass, and Harry gave a noncommittal shrug while Rosie rolled her eyes and flipped him off.  He laughed, "Potter agrees.  Rosie, though, she seems to be having issues overcoming her music prejudices.  It's okay, I know you liked it.  I saw you singing along back there," Irial whispered conspiratorially into the microphone, smirking at Rosie whose face soured as she flipped him off yet again.   

Irial blew her a sarcastic kiss before continuing, "I don't know, though, I honest to God thought their first album was shit despite the tween-aged obsessive-compulsive fangirls it garnered.  Stereotypical boyband, all "ooh, baby, I love you girl", which, don't even lie, is annoying as fuck and the irritating, teeny-bopper expectation that comes from boybands...and Disney-lebrities, and every Justin Bieber wannabe from Canada to Timbuktu.  But, seriously, if we're gonna actually get more of whatever that was, admittedly future breakup anthem of teen girls worldwide, but relatively deep, I might actually be persuaded to buy the album."   

Rosie mimed puking, and Harry rolled his eyes upward, like he was praying for divine intervention from Irial's stupidity, and Irial flipped the two of them off, "Any-fucking-way, let me ignore my so-called friends-slash-producers making fun of me and move onto your Twitter questions.  So, in case you were unaware just Tweet your questions to 'hashtag askdorian'.  Let's get started shall we?   

"@WeCantStop101...oh David, I don't know what to say about this, how do I relate this Twitter name to a man whose short film is slated for an award...don't know if I can...but he asks what the weirdest ringtone on my phone is.  Um...'I Wish' by Cher Lloyd is my best mate's current ringtone, he changes it weekly I'm afraid.  Not really sure what he's trying to tell me," Irial snickered, and Rosie rolled her eyes at him in tandem with Harry.   

Irial scrolled through the hashtag, quirking an eyebrow at all the Breakers sending in questions about whether he really knew Cris Emerson, if he was friends with the band, how, when, and where he and Cris had met.   

"@tj_hamernick—hello Teagan—asks what my favorite song is.  Weight of Living Part Uno by Bastille is my spiritual song.  Dirty Love by Kesha is my pump up song.  And Better in Stereo by Dove Cameron is my good feeling song right now," Irial answered with a proud smile, glancing down at his phone.  Several Tweets popped up in response to that, some derogatory and mocking, some entertained, but he barked out a laugh when he saw one from Cris.

**Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@DorianII hates my album but likes DOVE CAMERON?! I'm done with you #YouSuck #askdorian #dorianspeaks

Barking out a laugh, Irial shook his head, "Lies, vicious lies, love.  You'd miss me too much, and I won't apologize for that song.  It's so good," Irial whined.  Harry shook his head sadly, and Irial stuck out his tongue.  "Alright, @627breakerluv—interesting name—asks how I knew I was gay.  Um...I was at a party playing spin the bottle and ended up having an enthusiastic make-out session with my then-best mate.  Bit unexpected really, but I'd always been more attracted to men than women anyway, sticking my tongue down my mate's throat was only the icing on the cake."  Irial laughed when he read the next message, "No, @guru71rafiki, I didn't actually get slapped.  Funny story, I actually got my first hand job, which goes to show you there's just a little gay in everyone, as my pansexual flatmate likes to say."   

Harry fell over behind the glass, laughing while Rosie just pursed her lips and shrugged, unfettered.  Irial just smirked and heaved a one-shouldered shrug, turning back to his questions, "@jamesStjames...you, my dear, had terrible parents, how many men and women have I slept with.  Um...no women, actually, I've always been secure enough in my sexuality not to have to test it, and I'd rather not know how many men."  That one even made Irial sheepish, laughing a little bit embarrassed.  His phone buzzed.

**Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@DorianII *cough* slag *cough* #dorianspeaks #askdorian

"Oi!  Silence princess!  How many legs do you have to stand on?"  Irial looked down at his phone again and laughed, shaking his head, "Yeah, yeah I do apologize for my ongoing conversation over Twitter, texts, and airwaves.  Moving on, @McLovinCiroco...whoa, mindblown...that Twitter name...but will I go out with you?  First off," Irial looked up to see Rosie, supported by a red-faces Harry stifling laughter, struggling for breathe as she laughed, " _first off_ , Rosie's back there dying.  I...well...I tend not to _date_ , per se.  Probably don't hook up as much as people really think I do, Poky Little Puppy, I am talking to you and your passive-aggressive commentary.  _I_ am not a slut, thank you very much.  _Slutty_ , yes, but not a slut."   

"Sexually liberal!" Rosie called out.   

Irial snickered, "Yeah, yeah, 'sexually liberal', and, also, no, just because I already have a date upcoming and I doubt he'd be pleased to know I have me accept a date on air when he took nearly three weeks and a shag to convince me."   

Rosie signaled for the last question, and Irial nodded, "My slave driver says last question, and I'll even be nice and take one of these lovely pointed Breaker questions that I've totally ignored up till now.  So...wow, some of you are pretty graphic, aren't you.  The youth these days.  @asaB4xxx wants to know my marry, shag, kill, Breaking Fourth edition.  Well...alright, I'd definitely shag Benji Irving, because he's quite beautiful, isn't he?  GQ's calling.  I'd kill Dominic Kinsey, I think, he seems a bit high maintenance really, not my cuppa.  And I'd marry Cris, for sure, because I so enjoy his company despite his cheeky little insults and, eh, he'll never put out so I'd say we're quite there already there, aren't we?"   

Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head, making a sign to wrap it up.  Rosie raised an eyebrow at Irial, clearly unamused with his answer, and, unlike just about every other person he'd ever met, Irial swallowed thickly and ducked his head under that gaze, "So, that was interesting.  Breakers, darlings, welcome, I suppose, but I don't want hate for hating Breaking Fourth's shitty first album so fuck off, and same time tomorrow folks.  And I leave you with the very suggestive Arctic Monkey song 'R U Mine?'"   

Pulling off his head phones and hanging them up on the mic, Irial hopped up out of his seat, tossing his phone one-handed and waltzing into the sound booth.  Harry offered him a cup of lukewarm ginseng tea, which Irial took graciously, sighing when he sipped it.   

Rosie rolled her eyes, "You're so _English_."   

"Yankee," Irial remarked, shaking his head sadly.   

"And _aggressive_ ," Rosie continued while Irial rolled his eyes; she turned to Harry.   

Harry shrugged, "Just because I'm a PR major, doesn't mean I think Iri's fixable."   

Irial grinned at Harry while Rosie sputtered, glaring at an unbothered Harry.  'I Wish' blared from Irial's phone, and Rosie's expression shifted from irritated to amused in a heartbeat, Harry hiding a smile as Irial flipped off both of them, taking the call and waltzing back into the studio.  He plopped down on the table and grinned, "Princess."   

"Elf," Crispin greeted warmly, "or should I say husband?  Apparently, we're married, and I've been neglecting my martial duties.  At least, according to Twitter."   

"Twitter never lies," Irial intoned; he startled when his free hand hit the magazine he'd left on the table top, his too-wide, too-pleased, too-affectionate smile dimmed as he flipped it over, staring at the image of Crispin and sexy, sassy UK actress and singer, Penelope Dearly, hand-in-hand, strolling through Hyde Park with smiles on their faces.  He swallowed, a sour taste in his mouth, and ran his fingers through his hair, "Maybe I'm just an insatiable trophy wife."   

"Seems about right," Crispin replied; Irial narrowed his eyes, something about his tone off, "someone has to put food on the table...and cook it for your lazy arse."   

Irial laughed, "When do you find the time between recording and filming and interviews and dates with the most awesome woman in the UK that you can't even be bothered to tell your best mate about?"  He'd meant for it to come out decided less sharp than it actually had but, despite having some genuine affection for Penelope, he just couldn't find it in him to be lighthearted when it came to his unrequited crush on his super-straight best mate.   

"Like _mine_ didn't tell me about his with Stalker Stephen?"  Crispin retorted bitterly.   

Pausing, Irial sighed, debating how exactly he wanted to respond to that before choosing, "You don't know it's with Stephen."   

Crispin snorted, "Who else has spent the past few weeks dogging your heels and itching for any chance for another drunken snog with you?"   

"Don't be such a little shit, Crissy, alright?  I've been far too busy entertaining you to be getting drunk and snogging desperate boys, yeah?"   

A whoosh of breath came across the line, and Irial waited for Crispin to say, tone full of smug relief, "Yeah."   

Irial rolled his eyes, "You're so territorial, love."   

"And you're not?"  Crispin asked incredulously, "May I just remind you who snapped at me about going to the park with Penelope Dearly.  It's not like I was snogging anyone, Iri."   

Biting his lip to hold back a snappy retort, he tried to play it off, "She's my spirit animal.  How could you not tell me that you were dating the most fabulous woman alive?"   

"Your spirit animal?"  Crispin chortled, and Irial's lips curved up in an automatic smile at the sound, "She's not all that fantastic, Penny, when you spend a whole day with her."   

"Blasphemy and sacrilege, all of it.  I refuse to believe that," Irial played off lightly.   

"You try eating vegan for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and listening to her count calories while deciding on what to put her dairy-free, meat-free salad.  Painful.  And she's a terrible shopper.  Absolutely horrendous.  She wanted to find _organic clothing_.  That's _all_ she'll wear, because she's trying to 'send a message'.  I _really_ wanted that Burberry coat."   

"So why didn't you just order it online?"   

"Of _course_ I did, but that's not the point.  It's the _principle_."   

"Exactly.  She's saving the planet from selfish celebrities like you that prefer five hundred pound peacoats that aren't biodegradable and will kill the rainforest."   

"And Antarctica too, no doubt," Crispin continued, flatly.   

Irial smiled slightly, resting his chin on his fist and studying the floor, "No doubt."   

"Secondly, where'd you hear this nonsense?"   

"The rags," Irial told him matter-of-factly.   

Crispin sighed, and Irial frowned at how exasperated and angry he sounded, "Right, and they're just the picture of truth."  Quirking an eyebrow Crispin couldn't see, Irial remained silent as did Crispin who eventually blew out a raspberry and confessed tiredly, "We're not dating Irial.  I...it's not...we're not.  It was just a PR thing."  Irial felt something loosen in his chest, but the feeling was short-lived when Crispin inhaled a sharp breath, freezing Irial's blood, "Iri, can I ask you something?"   

"You can ask me anything, princess," Irial admitted, sounding way to genuine, way too intense to make even himself comfortable.   

"Why are you going out with Stalker Stephen?  You don't even like him."   

Sighing, Irial shifted, resting his forehead on his fist, knuckles digging painfully into his skull while he tried to steady his breathing, eyes closed as he struggled to articulate he need to try and flush his so-not-platonic feelings for his flirty but decidedly straight best mate from his system any and every way possible.  He settled on sighing Crispin's name, stricken and exhausted and extremely overwhelmed.   

Crispin didn't wait for him to continue.   

"If this is about your overactive libido, then I don't understand why can't just shag him.  Why you're gonna take him out on a date like you're interested in him.  In having a relationship.  With him," Crispin spat furiously.   

Irial narrowed his eyes and stiffened, "It's not like I'm marrying him, Crispin."   

"Of course, don't be daft.  You're marrying me," Crispin sniffed haughtily.   

Smiling slightly, Irial shook his head, "Forgot that.  Still in Vegas, yeah?"   

"No," Crispin contradicted thoughtfully, "Monte Carlo.  France is beautiful.  And there are no Elvis impersonators.  I am simply not _that_ gay."   

Forcing laughter that he didn't quite feel, Irial shrugged off the melancholy that came with that sentiment.  Maybe his inner ramblings had a point, their banter and co-dependency wasn't helping Irial resolve his crush.  None of which stopped him from replying, "Whatever you want, princess."   

Crispin scoffed, but Irial could tell he was smiling.  A moment of silent passed between them before Crispin asked shyly, "Can you meet me at our McDonald's tonight?"   

"Of course, love," Irial answered flippantly, just narrowly managing to not to say that he'd drop anything to meet Crispin anywhere.  That was exactly the problem.


	11. "Glad You Came" The Wanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irial tries to date his stalker and ends up a popstar's embarrassing Keek video...and has a fangirl moment.

**Cris Emerson 'smitten' with Penney Dear**  
Back in London only two months and Cris Emerson is already diving headlong into the deep end of the dating scene.  The 18-year-old popstar is rumored to be dating one of the UK's sexiest women, 23-year-old model, actress, and singer, Penelope Dearly, nicknamed 'Penney Dear' by fans and press alike.  Three weeks ago, the pair was hiding their relationship, sneaking dates up near Dearly's Middlesex estate, but not anymore it seems.  In the past week alone, they have been making time in their schedules for strolls in the park, shopping excursions, dinner on the Thames, and even spontaneous coffee dates between scene shootings when Emerson can get away.  "He [Cris] is smitten," a source reveals.  "They don't go a day without talking to each other.  Cris absolutely adores her."  He's not the only one.  Do we think this young romance will last?  Uncertain, but we can certainly hope since we're certainly shipping them.  
  
 **Breaking Fourth (@breakingfourth)**  
Thanks for making 'Wish You Well' number one on the UK, US, and Canadian iTunes charts #breakers #biglove #massivethanks  
  
 **Text message from Soren to Cris**  
 **Soren** : so I listened to your boys radio show  
 **Cris** : He's not MY boy  
 **Soren** : you wish he was  
 **Cris** : ...  
 **Soren** : when do i get to meet him?  
 **Cris** : I'd rather you didnt  
 **Cris** : I want him to like me  
 **Soren** : whats your point? Everyone likes you. Everyone likes me  
 **Cris** : He doesnt like me enough  
 **Soren** : youre trying to seduce him? XD  
 **Cris** : Sort of...  
  
 **Irish Rose (@rosieposie)**  
My baby boy @DorianII has a date tonight #NotSureAboutThis #dorianspeaks #doriansdate #skeptical  
  
 **Hannah Bear (@HannaBear13)**  
Good luck @DorianII #doriansdate  
  
 **Crissy's Gurl!!! (@LanaCrissyGurl73x)**  
NO!!! What about @Cris_Emerson??? #DontBreakCrissysHeart #doriansdate #crispian  
  
 **Alexey Artem (@workofartem_1217)**  
Date? Is @DorianII settling down on us? #doriansdate #WhatHasTheWorldComeTo #PeterPanSyndrome  
  
 **Annie <3 B4 (@anna_banana86)**  
@Cris_Emerson and Penney Dear? @DorianII dating? #HowAboutNo #doriansdate #crispian #corian  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
Is it still socially unacceptable to hide from your dates in the loo? Or dump wine on people's heads? #ImBored #doriansdate #neveragain

* * *

Irial was sixteen when he realized that, contrary to every romance movie and novel ever made and written, sex and love and functional relationships were not necessarily one and the same; it took him another six months to spot that while lots of people _say_ they know that, they all keep expecting to wake up and be the exception.   

Quite frankly, he blames _He's Just Not That Into You_ for giving people these misguided hopes.   

He'd never imagined that he'd be on the flip side of that equation, hoping some fantastic shagging could somehow equal a passionate enough relationship to take his mind off a certain golden-eyed popstar.  Maybe he ought to listen to Rosie more when she talked, because, not only wasn't it _working_ , Irial wanted to strangle himself...or Stephen, mostly Stephen who he'd actually believed he could connect with just because he sucked cock like a dream and didn't shy away from Irial's adventurous sexual tastes and childlike curiosity in sex toys.   

Alright, so maybe Irial hadn't _actually_ believed that, but he'd wanted to, which was worse.   

And, yes, his frustration was a little misplaced, but so much of it was these days that he couldn't be bothered.   

None of that explained why he was actually climbing out the window in the loo, ducking his head narrowly to avoid being spotted in the mirror by the burly, woolly mammoth of a man at the urinal.  He waited until the sound of both his flushing and the running of the tap silenced before continuing, pulling himself out and jumping from the sill to the ground.  He grunted at the impact, muttering a quiet curse and taking a moment to lean against the wall for balance, pain radiating up his shins.   

Despite the pain, he pulled out his mobile, rattling off a quick text message.

**Irial** : SOS WHERE R U?

**Crispin** : Watching you make a fool out of yourself.   

Irial jerked his head up sharply, eyes scanning the curb until he spotted the sleek navy blue Mercedes Benz loitering on the curb, a familiar, rangy figure leaning against the car, head bent over a phone, backlight tossing a bluish light over his face and dark, wavy strands falling into his face.  He narrowed his eyes on Crispin, starting to walk towards him and pausing when his mobile buzzed yet again; Irial raised an eyebrow at Crispin who shrugged and smiled, not moving to bridge the distance between them.

**Crispin** : You know you could use the front door.   

Rolling his eyes, Irial crossed the expanse between them, not even hesitating to step between Crispin's legs and hug his waist, burying his face into his pretentious Burberry peacoat.  Crispin's armed wrapped around him automatically, and he dropped a kiss on Irial's forehead.  Irial made a face, nosing Crispin's neck and muttering sulkily into the skin, "You know, you could have just talked to me."   

Scoffing, Crispin pulled back and smirked, "Not sure I want to after _that_ pitiful display."  Irial pouted but allowed Crispin to lead him to the passenger door with a large, warm hand pressed to the small of his bag.  He held it open for Irial, closing it firmly behind him, and walking briskly to the driver's side, turning on the car and cranking up the heat, but he leaned back in his seat, studying Irial carefully, "How bad was it?"   

"Not bad, just... _boring_."   

" _Boring_ ," Crispin repeated incredulously.  "You asked me to pull some sort of military extraction because you were bored of the prat _you_ asked out?  Here I thought he was a secret cannibal trying to eat your liver."   

"Not my liver," Irial mumbled pointedly.   

Crispin rolled his eyes and said testily, "I was under the impression you quite liked that."   

Despite knowing he hadn't meant anything derogatory (he just wasn't a fan of Irial's promiscuity or...well...Stephen), Irial still bristled, "I _did_."  Crispin raised his eyebrows at Irial who amended quickly, "I do?"   

That hadn't been meant as a question.   

"Are you asking _me_?"   

"No," he answered hastily.  _I'm saying that I can't emotionally get it up for anyone who isn't Slenderman with worse fashion, tawny eyes that shift to gold when excited or angry, obsessed with sci-fi movies, and has a wavy mane of borderline black hair streaked with natural mahogany highlights_.  "I just...you're right.  He's a bit of a stalker and clingy and possessive and way more into BDSM than I originally thought."   

Crispin took a breath and paused, glancing at Irial out of the corner of his eye, "I don't think I'm gonna touch that one."   

"Probably for the best."   

They sat in silence, weighted and charged but not altogether unusual or uncomfortable; Irial curled up in the passenger seat with his feet bouncing on the edge of the dash until Crispin put a hand on his knee, thumb rubbing soothing circles into the side of his knee.  His leg stilled, and he looked over at Crispin who studied him evenly, "What do you want right now?"   

He answered without hesitation, "My childhood cat, Bismarck, peace in Northern Ireland, and, um, to not think with my prick, that'd be nice."   

Smiling softly, Crispin shook his head, "Lovely, but I mean physical not empirical."   

"Oh."   

"Yeah," he grinned, free hand fiddling with the radio.   

"Well, then, cheesecake, froyo, and Bailey's."   

Crispin grinned and took his hand off Irial who immediately felt the loss, though he kept it off his face well enough, "You're a cheap date."   

"Excellent seeing as how you're a struggling musician and all," Irial remarked, and Crispin bit out a laugh, pulling away from the curb and into the North London traffic.

* * *

In the hastily approaching two months since their hold pattern of a friendship began, Irial had never been to Crispin's flat, partially because he was a homebody and had no interest in taking a tube ride all the way out to Chelsea and partially because it had just never come up.  Crispin seemed to enjoy bumming around Irial's quiet pocket of Suburbia and his tiny, tiny flat for whatever reason.  Irial indulged him because Crispin was adorable, and there really wasn't much he wouldn't do for Crispin.   

His flat was fantastic, obviously, a masterpiece of somebody else's, big and gated with parking and direct lift access to his cavernous living space.  For all that, it still only hinted at being lived in, all professionally designed and art deco, only a few pictures of family and the other boys from the band and awards conveying that someone did, in fact, actually live in the space.  The flat seemed decidedly cold and far from Crispin's eclectic Hipster vintage taste and lacking the ambience of someone so warm and photography from someone who snaps random photos whenever the mood strikes him.   

Actually, the only room that accurately seemed to reflect Crispin at all was his bedroom, which was just as neutrally colored as the rest of the flat but had been wallpapered in pictures he'd taken of his friends, family, and landscapes he'd seen, fan artwork, and weird trinkets he'd bought while out on tour.  One wall corner just consisted of postcards he'd picked up around the EU and the US, a sombrero pinned to the wall under it.  Instead of avant garde chandeliers, the room was lit by an array of Chinese paper lanterns and gilded Persian ones.  One whole wall had been turned into a cork board with sketches and snippets of lyrics or poems written on napkins, brochures, and tiny snatches of whatever available pinned to the wall.  Intricate Indian curtains were pulled back along the one wall that were basically floor-to-ceiling windows that opened to the flat's balcony.   

The other room was the kitchen, which made even Irial—who'd rather do Harry's laundry by hand than cook—gape, mouth watering.  They agreed that the cabinetry's burgundy color was weirder than the fact that Crispin's counter space was at war with all the plants he'd spread across the counter.  Irial had resisted the urge to tease him about being such a tree hugger because he'd been too busy being enthralled by Crispin's gorgeous tea pot collection and tins of imported tea.  Crispin had laughed at him, called him a tea snob, but had left him to it while he made a ridiculous amount of hot chocolate that he'd used as a dumping ground for Irial's Bailey's.   

Irial considered it a testament to their friendship that the pair of them could sit shirtless and cross-legged on Crispin's bed eating cheesecake and melting frozen yogurt, Irial lying between Crispin's legs, back pressed against Crispin's bare chest, while a Beatles record plays.  Absently, Irial posts the picture of Crispin in the lift holding the cheesecake, three different pints of froyo, and a bottle of Bailey's, smiling sheepishly at the camera and links it to his Twitter.

**Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
@Cris_Emerson my darling porter #ThanksForTheRescue #Froyo #CHEESECAKE   

Crispin snorted and stole Irial's phone, flipping to the camera and snapping a picture of the two of them that Irial didn't bother to smile for, content to let his head rest back on Crispin's shoulder.  He reached out for his spiked cocoa, letting Crispin set them as Irial's background and stealing a forkful of Crispin's Black Forest cheesecake while he flitted through iTunes, searching for his next ringtone.   

"I can't believe you have a _record player_.  Such a Hipster," Irial intoned flatly   

Crispin bit Irial's shoulder, "'S not a Hipster thing.  Records have better sound.  They're raw. Visceral."   

"This is why they don't let you speak at interviews.  _Weird_ , introspective Hipster shit."   

"I think you overuse that word."   

Irial hummed, grinning as the song changed and drumming the beat on his legs, careful not to jostle the food on his lap as he sang along, badly, mind you, " _It's been a hard day's night, and I'd been working like a dog._ "   

"I thought you didn't like the Beatles."   

" _It's been a hard day's night, I should be sleeping like a log._ "   

"You're a bit tone deaf, you realize."   

" _But when I get home to you I find the things that you do,_ " Irial kept singing, tilting his back to bat his eyelashes at Crispin who rolled his eyes but couldn't quite stifle his smile, bowing his head and locking gazes with Irial, singing the last line in time with Irial and with decidedly better vocals, " _Will make me feel alright_."   

They both started when they heard clapping, head whipping around to see Soren Reid, average height, a bit pudgy, and with a mop of cherubic blonde curls tucked under a fedora standing in the open doorway with a mischievous glint in his eye and a warm, fond smile on his face, "Isn't this cozy."   

"Soren," Irial sighed.   

"Oh my God, you're Soren Reid! You're brilliant!"  Irial turned to look up at Crispin, affirming, "He's brilliant."   

Soren laughed and wandered further into the room, "Thanks mate."   

"You didn't react like this when you met me," Crispin pouted.   

Irial kissed his cheek, shaking his head, " _That_ , love, is because you're in a boyband not the beautiful, long-awaited second coming of Ed Sheeran crossed with Elton John and a dash of Bastille.  Fucking fabulous."   

"I like this one," Soren grinned at Crispin, "he's a keeper."   

Crispin groaned, dropping his head and hiding his face in Irial's neck.  He reached up and patted Crispin's head lovingly, "Hi Soren Reid, I'm Irial Dorian."   

Soren's lips curled up in an understanding smile, "So _that's_ why the pseudonym, eh?"   

"Not exactly," Irial answered.  " _A Picture of Dorian Grey_ is one of my favorite books, and I tend to have a bit of a streak of hedonism that will probably bring ruin to me."   

"Cheerful," Soren raised his eyebrows.   

"Quite," He chirped in reply while Crispin kissed his neck and nipped at the skin until Irial smacked his head gently.  He smiled, lips curving upwards against Irial's skin.   

"Not quite," Crispin mumbled against Irial's skin, "I love my trophy wife too much for that."   

Irial smiled and whispered, "You're sweet."  Crispin hummed in agreement, kissing his neck again.   

"He's drunk," Soren snickered.   

Crispin shook his head while Irial answered, "Just buzzed, I think.  The trophy wife comment?  It's a thing."   

Nodding as if this made any sort of sense, he spotted the container of cheesecake samplers and perked up, "You have cheesecake!"  He reached out for some, an action that had Irial narrowing his eyes.   

Crispin smacked his hand away, "Not for you."   

"Crissy," Soren pleaded, but Crispin shook his head, looking up at his friend and resting his chin on Irial's shoulder.   

"You'll have to ask Iri.  It's his 'I'm sorry your date was so horrible you felt the need to climb out of a bathroom window to escape it' meal," Crispin explained patiently.   

Soren scoffed, eyes sweeping over the half-eaten pints of froyo slush and cake platter with a skeptical look, "You call this a meal?"  He shook his head sadly, "Never have children.  Wait...you climbed out of a bathroom window?"   

Laughter bubbled up from Crispin's throat, and Irial shot a glare at him, which only succeeded making him give up any illusions about his amusement.  Soren smiled and shook his head at Crispin.  Irial scowled, pinching Crispin's thigh, turning back to Soren and saying dryly, "Say 'you' like that, I know I'm fat but when you need to run the body can do amazing things."   

"Where did you find him?"  Soren inquired, amused.   

"An alley," Crispin replied blithely.   

"'An alley,' he says like he wasn't the one just standing out there whereas I went out there for a smoke," Irial stuck his tongue out at Crispin who responded with a toothy grin.   

Soren blinked at Irial, surprised, "You smoke?"  His eyes cut to Crispin, "He smokes."   

"Right," Irial began slowly, "not a crime.  It's a little tar in my lungs and probably a big 'F You' to the environment, but it's not like I'm a serial killer."   

Crispin regarded silently while Soren seemed to struggle to grasp something about the situation; Irial looked between them, confused and a about ready to demand what the hell was going on when Soren finally exploded with, "You'll let _him_ smoke, but every time I so much as glance sideways at a cigarette you glare at me like I killed your cat."   

"I don't have a cat," Crispin replied pointedly.  Soren skewered him with a glare, and Irial raised his eyebrows, pursing his lips and shrinking back into Crispin who respond by wrapping his arms around Irial's waist, fingers tapping in tune with 'Hey Jude'.  "And he doesn't smoke a pack a day."   

"And you love him more than me, you forgot that part," Soren said, eyes narrowed.   

Crispin nodded, "And I love him more than you, Soren. Very good."   

The words were light but sincere even to Irial who bent his head at an awkward angle so that he could study Crispin's profile as he refused to turn his head to meet Irial's gaze.  Soren gave the pair of them a smug, Chesire cat grin, meeting Irial's gaze with a eerily pointed look.  He choose, wisely, to ignore that look and focus on his soupy coconut froyo, offering Crispin a spoonful when he prodded Irial in the side.   

Soren rolled his eyes at them, snagging an original triangle of cheesecake as he dropped to sit cross-legged on the edge of the bed, "So, are you bringing your wife to my show Thursday?"   

"He has a thing," Crispin said vaguely.   

"That's why you couldn't come.  You could have just told me," Irial instructed as he offered Crispin another spoonful of yogurt.  Crispin shrugged, and Soren looked between then questioningly.  Irial answered the unspoken question, "My flatmate's American so we're skipping classes to have a traditional American Thanksgiving.  It's become our tradition since first year.  Harold cooks.  Rosie yells at him when he puts garlic in the mashed potatoes and actually puts stuffing in the turkey.  And we all watch American football then though none of us like it because it's a thing."   

"Sounds like fun," Soren said, deadpanned.  "Can't imagine why you wouldn't want to go, Crissy."   

"I have your concert," Crispin retorted, tone arctic.   

Soren scoffed, and Irial smirked, "He's afraid of my flatmates."  Soren laughed, and Crispin huffed, though he didn't deny it.

* * *

**Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
I met @sorensoars!!!! #ICanDieHappyNow  
  
 **Soren Reid (@sorensoars)**  
Eating cheesecake and listening the Beatles with @DorianII and @Cris_Emerson #PartyCrasher #CheesecakeThief  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
I think @DorianII is fangirling on the inside from meeting @sorensoars o.o

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really want a record player...sigh, some day. Actually, some day I'll get my grandmother one since she actually has records to play, but, anyway, there's the next chapter whoo.


	12. "Right Now" One Direction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cris trips over suitcases and gets smacked in the face with Rosie's protectiveness. Rosie plays matchmaker by pissing people off. And Pierce the Veil becomes the soundtrack of a relationship

**Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
Whoo it's the holiday season :D the show'll be on hiatus for 2 wks starting Dec 19 so #HappyChristmas #HappyHanukah #HappyWhateverElse #HappyEarlyNewYear #dorianspeaks  
  
 **Dominic Kinsey (@Nic_Kinsey)**  
@breakingfourth is performing in Times Square for New Years #OMG #ImSoExcited #breakingfourth #NewYearsEve  
  
 **Micah Cross (@MC_Cross)**  
Xmas is coming! But who's nervous for New Years?  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
There is just on thing I need. I don't care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree. I just want you for my own.  
  
 **Tumblr Post: benjibooislife**  
 **Corian or Crispian?**  
Never thought I'd ever basically become a hysterical Larry shipper (sort of...different boyband), but omfg Dorian and Cris give me so many freaking feels!!!!  The Twitter flirting, weird Instagram kink, and weird platonic mandates.  I cannot.  They need to just stahp it and get the d already.  I mean did anyone see Cris's Xmas Tweet?  Or how Dorian was bitching about his date last month and not an hour later Cris posted that Keek video of him escaping it from the restaurant's bathroom window then bought him snacks and brought him home to listen to the Beatles alone until Soren crashed it?  I ship it.  Its gonna be real  Idgaf.  So, in preparation, seriously Crispian or Corian?  
  
 **Text message from Mum to Cris**  
 **Mum** : Inquiring minds want to know if you'll be home for Christmas.  
 **Cris** : Inquiring minds? So Gran and Grandad then?  
 **Cris** : When did you learn to speak tween anyway? And yeah I will for the whole week but I fly out to NYC on Dec 29 for the New Years concert  
 **Mum** : Excellent. Be prepared for Ariella to ask about this Crispian/Corian thing  
 **Cris** : O.O  
 **Mum** : Lol  
 **Cris** : stop -.-  
  
 **Text message from Iri to Cris**  
 **Iri** : Apparently Phoenix is hot even in the winter. Idk how to feel about swelter xmas  
 **Cris** : Can't relate. I get a cold english xmas in Dartmoor :P  
 **Iri:** Alright princess enough out of you. At least I can tan :D you can freeze in NY  
 **Cris** : I hate you  
 **Iri** : Lies.   
**Iri** : Come help me pack?  
 **Iri** : Bring donuts and tea.  
 **Cris** : You just want me for my food  
 **Iri** : Nah your body's nice to look at too ;)

* * *

The door opened to reveal a woman that Cris had only seen in a bunch of silly pictures on Irial's mobile.  He vaguely remembered flipping through Irial's pictures and pausing on the one of her; Irial had huffed but smiled fondly saying, "Rosemary Evangeline Ireland—quite the name, right?—my flatmate, producer, and best mate most days.  Goes by Rosie, unequivocally."   

She was just a gorgeous in person as she was in the photo.  Taller than average but not ridiculously so, not skinny but not terribly overweight either, all dangerous curves and accentuated assets that looked sexy on her.  She had the paleness of someone who'd spent too long without sun and freckles splashed over the bridge of her nose that made her look innocent, though her narrowed green eyes told a different story.  Rosie dressed exactly like Irial had described, which summed up to "total butch in private", with Boston University sweatpants two sizes too big, a hot pink wifebeater, and mismatched socks, thick red hair piled up on the top of her head.   

"So," Rosie began, "you're Irial's not-boyfriend."   

Cris blinked, not quite sure how to answer that, "Um..."   

"Rosie," a deeper, decidedly more masculine voice chided her from further within the flat, and a man appeared behind her, ash brown hair floppy and tousled, "don't be hostile."   

This, Cris guessed, had to be Harry 'Rosie's Harold' Benton-Sterling, their adopted flatmate who never seemed to be at his own flat and didn't pay rent but tended to room with Rosie and cleaned as well as cooked, including laundry and grocery shopping so they hadn't bitched all too much when he'd all but moved in.  The extent of Irial's description of Harry's personality came down to, "You'd like him.  He's a ridiculous Hipster freak too."  Though it was hard to tell right now as he seemed just as relaxed as Rosie, clothing wise, all flannel pajama pants and a Middlesex hoodie, though at least his socks matched.   

"Um..." Cris tried again, tongue-tied, but trying to shake it off and make a good impression on his crush's two best mates, "I'm Crispin...Cris...Emerson?  Cris Emerson."   

"We know, dude," Rosie pointed out blandly.  Harry elbowed her, and she sighed, "I'm Rosemary Ireland.  Rosie or Rose is acceptable for identification purposes, never Rosemary.  And this is Harold BS."   

Cris's lips automatically started to curl into a smile as he looked to Harry and found him giving Rosie an exasperated but utterly fond look.  She just smiled.  Harry turned to Cris, "Harry.  I'm Harry Benton-Sterling and ignore Rosie, or, at least, don't take her personally.  If she's insulting you it means she likes you.  I tried to train her, I really did, but it didn't stick."   

Rosie rolled her eyes before barking at Cris, "Don't look like we're about to murder you.  We wouldn't do it so publicly."   

"We're pretty sure the neighbor's MI6," Harry confided while Rosie nodded her head.   

"Then, can I come in before he realizes I'm wanted and takes me into custody?"  Cris asked with an innocent smile.   

Harry laughed, and Rosie smirked, whirling around and leaving the door open as she walked further into the flat, calling, "Iri, you have a gentleman caller here to see you!"   

"Watch out for the bags," Harry warned Cris as he came in, but not before Cris tripped over a suitcase, lying open on the floor.  Harry sighed tiredly.   

Rosie leaned against the wall and snickered, "Smooth moves you got there popstar."   

Irial appeared from the hallway and took in the scene slowly before sighing and scowling at Rosie, "You broke my first and only gentleman caller."   

"Lord knows you'll never have another one with that ugly mug," Rosie teased flatly.   

Irial stuck his tongue out at her as Cris got to his feet, cheeks on fire.  Irial glanced over at Cris and winked while Harry walked over to Rosie, standing between her and Irial, "You two need to stop making these abstract allusions to Easy A.  It was a good movie, but not _that_ good."   

Cris mirrored the pair's look of abject horror directed at Harry, and Cris blurted first, "Who _are_ you?"   

"Get out of my flat," Irial growled.   

Harry rolled his eyes, "How would you eat?  How would you have clean clothes?  You don't scare me."   

Irial shrugged, "Worth a try."  He looked at Cris and nodded for him to follow, and Cris started to carefully pick his way across the floor while Irial watched from the hallway as Harry and Rosie exchanged their odd bickering banter that sounded way too much like foreplay for Cris to be entirely comfortable with.  It wasn't until Irial mentioned that maybe that menage a trois hadn't helped the sexual tension that plagued their relationship ease that Cris lost his concentration, looking up at the trio sharply, foot getting tangled in the web of bags, and sending him falling down.   

With a grunt of exertion, Irial caught him, and Cris blushed as Irial helped him right himself just outside the deathtrap maze on the floor.   

"You promised you weren't gonna mention that again!"   

"Well your sexual tension's getting out of control," Irial retorted, keeping one hand on Cris's waist and making Cris blush deeper when he noticed that it had caught Harry's undivided attention, his eyebrows raised as he noted it.   

"It's okay," Rosie said too sweetly.  "Payback's a bitch motherfucker.  Look up."   

Irial and Cris shared a confused glance before tilting their heads back to stare up at the mistletoe hanging above them, almost directly between their bodies.  Cris stilled, gaze darting to Irial who was focused on a cackling Rosie.   

"Rosemary Evangeline," Irial said warningly.   

Harry shook his head while Rosie crossed her arms over her chest, discounting his tone, "Irial Mackenzie...just do it."   

Cris stared at Irial who refused to look at him, everything in Cris screaming, "Yes, fucking yes, please do."

"No," Irial bit at her in a steely, frigid voice.   

Rosie raised her eyebrows at Irial, not surprised and utterly unaffected while Harry just looked at Cris who deflated as quickly as he'd been overtaken with desire and hope that maybe, just maybe Irial would make a move and give Cris what he'd been craving from the older boy from just about the moment Irial had regarded him with casual, curious disinterest after tripping over him...actually before that when Irial's backside had been pressed flush against Cris.   

"What's the problem, Iri?"  Rosie asked in a conversational way, though something about the look in her eye said that this wasn't a game anymore, "You just love interfering in my life.  Can't take what you dish out?"   

"Rosie," Harry ordered, putting a hand on her arm.  She blinked and shrank back, shaking her head and regarding Irial with a curl of her lips and an almost feral smile.   

Irial pressed his lips together and regarded her coolly before turning to a downcast Cris, "Let's go."   

Cris nodded wordlessly, a cold, empty feeling spreading through him as he let Irial lead him down the hallway to his bedroom with a hand on his lower back.  Despite Irial being right behind him, Cris suddenly felt more alone and bereft than he ever had, even after his biological mother had skipped town, and Cris had spent the summer packing the remains of their family home into boxes while Ariella went away to summer camp and his father had avoided everyone like the plague, working and going to the pub, coming home in the early morning hours only to leave before the sun even rose.   

Silently, he waded through the mess of Irial's room to plop down on the bed, leaning back against the wall and pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes.   

It wasn't logical to feel this upset about Irial rejecting a kiss with him...under mistletoe...that Rosie had pushed because Irial had crossed some invisible flatmate boundary, but there it was regardless.  Cris was not about to cry, because his crush wasn't totally gone for Cris the same way that he was for Irial; it should be enough to know that Irial needed him, that their friendship was ridiculously important to the uni student.  But, since Irial's drunken McDonalds rambling, Cris had been holding out hope, subconsciously it seemed, that maybe Irial wanted him and just wasn't doing anything about it for whatever misguided reason.   

It seemed Cris was wrong and only had himself to blame for this feeling, which didn't quite mean he was any less irrationally pissed at Irial.  Just self-aware.   

Irial's face was carefully blank, and he walked over to his iPod dock and flipped on Asking Alexandria, the only surefire sign that he was upset about something.  Cris remained silent, tilting his head and watching Irial dig through his closet, occasionally tossing an article of clothing in the open suitcase sitting on the end of his bed.  Despite them both being upset, their silence wasn't uncomfortable just slightly more charged than usual, dizzyingly buzzing, thrumming against Cris's skin and raising the hairs on his arms.   

The room was more of a mess than usual like a tornado had gone through, clothes thrown all over the place, flopped across the bed and dangling off a chair.  Cris loved Irial's room though, loved his whole flat despite it being little more than a shoebox.  It all just looked lived in and loved, the kitchen, dining room, and living all overflowing with just as much personality as Irial's room, which was a mess of movie posters and photos of his friends tacked up on the wall, school books piled haphazardly on top of each other on his desk and leaning ominously over his laptop, DVD cases, cds, and books stacked on top of each other along the walls, some having fallen, littering the floor.  The rest of the house wasn't much different, almost every room possessing a receipt, napkin, or piece of paper that Rosie had used to jot notes, lines of a story, or an impromptu poem.   

It took about ten minutes of wincing as Irial tossed whatever looked clean into the suitcase before Cris cracked and scooted over to sit cross-legged beside it, pulling out the articles of clothes, folding them carefully and packing the bag with a little more care.  Irial glanced at him, eyes tired and a little sad, smiling gently, thankfully, before he turned away to continue.  It was until Irial had calmed down enough to emotionally demote to Pierce the Veil that Cris figured it was safe for them to exchange words that wouldn't result in one of them exploding.   

"Do you even own sandals?  Vans and Sperrys are alright I suppose, but what if you go to a pool?  You plan on ruining your hideous preppy shoes with chlorinated water?"   

Irial laughed breathily, seeming more relieved than anything, "I don't actually.  Rosie bought me this grotesque pair of camouflage Crocs as a joke for my birthday, though."   

"Pack them," Cris ordered, and Irial shrugged, digging them out of his closet and tossing them one at a time to Cris who caught them and tucked them expertly into the now organized suitcase interior.   

The song switched from 'King For A Day' to 'I Don't Care If You're Contagious', and Irial sighed and swallowed, staring down at his bare feet, taking a deep breath, "I'm...um...sorry."   

Cris tried not to get emotional, waving off his apology brusquely and a bit too angrily, "Don't be.  It's fine that you don't want that.  We're best mates and not like that and yeah, ot's whatever."   

He winced.  _And his word vomit strikes._   _That_ was why he wasn't allowed to be asked important question in interviews.  Because he couldn't lie for shit and spoke a tad too honestly when he got worked up.  Apparently he should have brought Dominic or Micah for this discussion.   

"Wait," Irial hastened, straightening his back and pinning Cris with a look way too serious on Irial's easygoing countenance.  He backtracked them, "What?"   

"I just mean like it's okay you don't want to stick your tongue down my throat or whatever.  We're friends, that's it, I get it.  You don't have to apologize for not being stupidly in love with me or wanting to shag me or whatever."   

Cris was sulking, eyes prickling like they were prepping to well with tears.  _Not okay, you are an eighteen year old man not a twelve year old girl who didn't get her pigtail pulled by the cutest boy in school.  Get it together.  Easier said than done since this was Irial not Oliver Tunie in Year 10._ This wasn't some farfetched idol.  This was a boy he argued music and movies and books with.  Who willingly had tried sushi with him for the first time at some sketch place in the middle of nowhere, then carded his fingers through his hair when he'd gotten food poisoning from it.  This was a guy who'd stopped trying to hook up and had fled a party thrown in his anonymous honor to share a pint of Phish Food ice cream and reassure Cris when he'd started freaking out about his whole career being a sham based entirely on his looks and not his suck ass fail of a voice...and then had forced him to some do karaoke at a seedy bar in Hendon where half the patrons were drunk, none knew his name, and they'd given him a standing ovation after he'd finished 'Living on a Prayer' for his voice not his face.  This was a guy who had literally curled up on his couch, reading a novel while Cris ranted about his way too busy schedule and never having time to see his family and then had indulged him in a Lord of the Rings movie marathon.   

He hadn't even realized Irial had moved until he was suddenly in front of Cris, luggage pushed off to the side so nothing was between them.  Irial cupped Cris's face in his hand, looking wrecked, thumb tracing Cris's collarbone, shaking so much that Cris swallowed hard, breath catching, heart pounding, "Crispin," Irial whispered, stormy gray eyes locked on Cris's tawny ones, "what do you want?"   

"I want you to stop pretending this isn't real and do something."   

The seemed to be all the motivation Irial needed to tangle his fingers into Cris's hair and pull him into a bruising kiss.  Searing and hot but also gently and consuming, like he wanted to breathe Cris into him and keep him there as a part of him.  Cris's hands shook as he kissed back, hands reaching up to frame Irial's face, thumbs rubbing over the stubbly skin of his cheeks.  Irial pulled away just enough meet Cris's eyes that were probably just as dazed and awestruck as Irial's; the air between them hummed, alive and electrified.   

Irial bit his bottom lip, and Cris didn't even have a moment to think before he'd lesned forward, nipping it with his own teeth.  Pulling back further, Irial laughed breathlessly, amazed, shaking his head, "I didn't know you wanted...I didn't think I could..."   

Cris ducked his head and nodded, smiling gently at Irial and running one hand through his downy soft blonde hair while the other trailed from his cheek, down his throat, and over his torso, causing Irial to gulp nervously, heart fluttering and muscles tightening under Cris's fingers, until he had a hand on Irial's waist, tugging him until he was straddling Cris.  He tightened his fingers in Irial's hair, pulling him into another kiss, gentler and understanding, murmuring against his lips, "I realize.  We'll pretend it's not because you're so secretly insecure that you didn't believe I don't stupidly want you so much that I can barely breathe without you and can't even go an hour without speaking to you and basically get drunk off you touching me, which even fifteen year old fangirls on Tumblr picked up on."   

Grinning against his lips, Irial gave him a peck before moving to kiss under his ear, planting kisses down his jawline and nipping at his skin; Cris closed his eyes and tipped his head back, breathing labored and shallow, "You saw that?"   

"Babe, even my management saw that.  And my bandmates.  And my mum."   

"We should work on discretion," Irial said absently, catching Cris another kiss.   

"Do you even know what that word means?"  Cris kissed him back lazily.   

"I don't really care, love," Irial admitted, meeting Cris's eyes a moment before pressing their lips together again, this time more purposeful, searching, tongues tangling together, hands gripping each other almost painfully, bodies flush against each other, so close that not even a pocket of air existed between them.  They both groaned into the kiss like they'd been searching for it, for each other, forever but with the care of two souls that wanted it to endure, remain unbroken and pure, which wasn't to say that the way Irial's tongue caressed Cris's as he rising erection pressed into Cris's stomach while Cris had slipped a hand under Irial's shirt, blunt nails scratching and digging into his back.   

When they were forced to separate to breathe, Cris rans his hands over Irial's head, cupping his face between his hands, giving him a quick, chaste peck followed by another, deeper, longer closed mouth kiss that forced a groan from the back of Irial's throat.  Cris grinned, "How am I supposed to leave now?"   

"Don't," Irial suggested, giving Cris a filthy, open-mouthed kiss.   

Cris moaned, gripping Irial's waist firmly and pulling back, "I meant to New York."   

"Don't do that either."   

Laughing, Cris shook his head, "You're gonna be all kinds of trouble aren't you?"   

"Me?" Irial gasped, incredulous, and Cris took advantage of his distraction to latch onto Irial's throat, running his tongue along the feverish skin and kiss the moistened skin gentle before latching on, kissing, nipping, and sucking at the skin, knowing full and well  that he'd have an impressive bruise there, "Arsehole."   

Cris bit down sharply on Irial's neck, and he jerked, hips grinding into Cris as his breathe hitched.  Grinning up at him, Cris said, "You realize we had our first kiss to a song called 'I Don't Care If You're Contagious'?"   

Rolling his eyes, Irial pushed Cris back onto the bed, "You realize you talk too much?"   

"How exactly are you planning on shutting me up, Elf?"  Cris asked, momentarily dazed when Irial pulled off his shirt and hovered over Cris, blonde fringe falling into his eyes.  Unable to resist, Cris ran his hands over Irial's bare skin, heart leaping into his throat when Irial's eye darkened.   

"I don't, princess.  You can be as loud as you want to," Irial said, quickly divesting Cris of his shirt and leaning down to kiss over his heart and trailing kiss up to Cris's pulse point, lips ghosting over the skin and feeling his staggering heartbeat, "But do you think you can handle it?"   

Cris ran his hands down Irial's back, dipping beneath the hem of his sweatpants and grabbing Irial's bum just as he canted his hips upwards, grinding their hips together.  They groaned in unison, Irial's eyes closing and his head dropping like his neck could no longer support its weight.  Cris's hand's went back to exploring Irial's bare skin, one hand holding onto his hips as Cris leaned up, pulling Irial into a long, deep kiss, pulling back longer enough to whisper against his lips, "I think you're kept us both waiting too long to tease."   

Nodding, Irial met Cris's eyes, reaching down between them and playing with the button of Cris's jeans, just smiling when Cris shifted automatically, anxious and worked up, "You love it."   

Irial thumbed open the button.   

They had their first shag to 'Bulletproof Love.'  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look...I feel wildly uncomfortable writing smut. I will try later on...but not this time because I wrote this scene with my mother and eight-year-old brother sitting in the room across from me watching Wreck-It Ralph together. That just wasn't going to happen, but, yeah, stuff happens.


	13. "Its Time" Imagine Dragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cris sort of comes out a really inopportune moment...and has doubts about his fledgling relationship.

**Text message from Soren to Cris**  
 **Soren** : You need to tell them  
 **Soren** : They're your best friends. They'll support you  
 **Soren** : Do you really think you'll be able to hide you and Iri?  Even your fans have picked up on that  
 **Cris** : I realize that. It's a little disconcerting how observant they are  
 **Soren** : So you are alive. Iri hasn't killed you yet ^.^  
 **Cris** : Ignoring that and I will tell them. I do trust them  
 **Soren** : Good cuz between the lovebites ALL OVER YOUR BODY and your ridiculous Irial smile they'll pick up on it anyhow  
 **Cris** : Drop it. I will  
 **Soren** : Sooner rather than later mate  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
Let's Start A Fire by Ryan Star  
  
To: crossesoflead@gmail.com.uk; mustlovedogs@gmail.com.uk; djkinsey@gmail.com.uk; chriscrossedmicah@gmail.com.uk  
From: sawyer.ashton@dissidentmanagement.com.uk  
Subject: Interview and Promotions  
Just a reminder that Breaking Fourth has an interview in studio with Derek Havershim at 5pm Wednesday, January 7.  You're to arrive by 3:30pm the latest and will be on a live segment of his talk show.  Also, with the album's upcoming release, we need to sit down and go over promotion.  This meeting will most likely take place next week either Monday, January 12 or Thursday, January 15.  I will email you as soon as the date and time is finalized.  Also, the next single will most likely be 'I Could Love You', just a heads up.  If you have an logistic questions about the interview or upcoming promotions feel free to contact either myself or the band's publicist, Fiona Dempsey.  Contact Miranda, your head stylist, for any information on your appearance on the show.  
Ashton Sawyer  
Dissident Management  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
Somehow I think this date's going to go better than the last one #ImActuallyExcited #doriansdateII #WhyAmINervous  
  
 **Irish Rose (@rosieposie)**  
@DorianII one can only hope  
  
 **Text message to Crispin from Irial**  
 **Irial** : So I hear our shippers are at war  
 **Crispin** : Lmao are you Team Crispian or Team Corian?  
 **Irial** : This isn't a Twilight novel. I'm not 'team' anything...but between you and me I'm totally Team Corian  
 **Crispin** : stfu, Crispian or I walk  
 **Irial** : Diva. I swear.  
 **Crispin** : No...princess, remember? And at least it's not about who tops.  
 **Irial** : Patience love, patience...and I like my ringtone btw

* * *

Dominic poked the massive lovebite on Cris's throat that had been way too big to be covered by a jacket and way too dark for even concealer to completely conceal.  From the wings of the set, Cris saw Miranda's lips curl, rightfully pissed at bit Dominic for drawing attention to the still too evident bruise and probably Cris for not having the foresight (or ignoring it) to get one in the first place.   

"Who gave it to you anyway?"  Dominic poked at it while Cris just eyed him questioningly.  _What was his life that he had best mates that he let prod at his lovebites, and he just rolled his eyes?_ His eyes lit up, and he gave Cris a conspiratorial look, "Was it Penney?  Did you seriously hook up with like the greatest female since Blondie?"   

"Blondie?" Micah inquired from Dominic's other side.  Dominic shrugged.   

Cris shook his head, "Definitely not, Penney."   

Benji raised his eyebrows, "Good, because she's a _national treasure_ like Beyonce to America or Sofia Vergara to Hispanics worldwide.  If you broke her heart, we'd have to kill you."   

Micah pursed his lips and made a face but didn't disagree while Dominic just shrugged and nodded, apparently completely on board with this course of action.  Cris balked for a moment, "No.  Are you serious?  Me and _Penney_?"   

"There's _nothing_ wrong with _Penelope Dearly_ , Cris," Benji stated adamantly, "and if she's giving you lovebites, you ought to speak higher of her."   

Cris gaped while Micah leaned around Dominic to echo Cris's sentiment; Dominic just looked thoughtful, "I'm just saying that I'm not into her like that.  Why are you even—?  Oh...you're _into_ her, aren't you?"  Cris grinned widely at Benji who blushed.  Dominic turned to Benji, waggling his eyebrows; Micah snickered.   

"Shut up," Benji said without any heat.   

"You've got a crush on the UK's 'national treasure'," Cris rolled his eyes, amused to see Benji's blush deepen.   

Benji shook his head and mumbled, "'S not a _crush_."   

"Oh?" Cris began, meeting Dominic and Micah's amused, smirking gazes in turn before turning back to a very uncomfortable Benji, "Did you hook up with her at the New Years Eve Party?  And not _tell_ us?"   

"No..." Benji blurted out quickly, tripping so badly over his next stuttering words that Dominic didn't even try to hold back laughter.  Micah shook his head as Derek Havershim made his way back onto set while Cris just stared at Benji, unimpressed and unconvinced, "we don't...we didn't."   

"Right," Cris drawled, indulging him, "yeah, that's believable with those flaming cheeks, Benji."   

Benji glanced over at Derek before lowering his voice so that there was no chance anybody but the boys could hear him, "You want to talk about secret relationships, Crissy?  Where'd the lovebites come from?"   

Cris smiled wanly, "My boyfriend."   

"Wait, what?" Benji blurted, shellshocked just as Derek called them to attention, the show about to begin.   

"We're back on," Cris said patiently.   

"Crispin Samuel Emerson," Micah ground out through his teeth.   

Cris shushed them with a smile.   

"So, we're back on with Breaking Fourth," the studio audience they'd forgotten all about cheered, and everyone turned sheepish, but, considering their management hadn't come out from backstage with a knife in hand, it was safe to assume that they hadn't heard anything.  "So, boys, your fourth studio album's about to come out, what exactly can your _very enthusiastic_ and dedicated fans expect.  Breakers they call themselves right?"   

The boys nodded, the tension on the couch still prevalent, but Dominic said, "Can we really say it's 'about to come out'?  March is a bit of a ways away."   

Derek shrugged, "Well, it's all quite relative."   

"Is that a hint it's going to be leaked again?  Has it been _you_ all this time, Derek?" Cris asked with a winning, boyish smile.   

"One can only hope it'll be leaked.  I'm nearly forty; I don't want that on my credit card purchase summary!"   

The boys laughed, and the audience cheered while Micah actually answered the question, "One of the things we've been really concerned with is allowing our music to mature as we do.  I don't think it's one of those things we've been trying to _push_ , just let it happen naturally.  We've grown up and our fans are growing up and we have to let our music grow up too."   

"Tell me this is not about to be some crazy Justin Timberlake flip-flop.  _That_ turnaround gave me a bit of whiplash."   

Cris smiled and shook his head, "No!  I mean, we're in our early twenties.  We're not about to sing about relationships quite so..."   

"Graphically?" Dominic suggested.   

Nodding, Cris went on, "Right.  But we do drink and we do party and we do date.  We're not saints, and I think the new album reflects who we are really well."   

"Well, I'd hope so.  _You_ wrote it."   

"Sometimes, that doesn't mean much," Benji remarked, shooting Cris a sideways glance he pointedly ignored.  Dominic leaned forward to cover his mouth with his hands so no one could see his big 'ooh burned' smile.  Micah just looked done with the conversation.  Cris looked up at the ceiling, a sheepish, shaky, uncomfortable smile spreading across his face as he pressed his lips together in a tight line, shaking his head.   

Derek paused, looking between the four boys, "Am I missing something?"   

Benji leaned back against the couch and raised his eyebrows at Cris who quickly shook his head, "No."   

"Crissy just dropped a bit of a bombshell on us.  Benji's upset," Dominic confided.   

"Ooh, is it true your going solo?"   

"Is that a rumor?" Cris blurted, appalled, "Since when am I going solo?  No, we were just talking about some stuff that happened New Years Eve."   

"Did he really kiss Penney Dear?  I've loved her since she was in that movie about the Madame de Maitenant."  Derek leaned forward to ask them like it was a secret.   

Micah smirked, "Not Cris."   

Cris shook his head, " _I_ didn't kiss anyone.  Nobody loves me."   

Dominic nodded, "This is true."  Cris pouted while Dominic just patted his head like a dog.   

"So who kissed my favorite celebrity, hmm?"   

"Yeah, Benji, who kissed Penney Dear?"  Dominic asked innocently, batting his eyelashes, and Cris ducked his head to hide a smile.   

"Git," Benji whispered to him with narrowed eyes, though his tone was light and amused.   

Derek looked between them with wide eyes, "Oh!  So _Benji_ here kissed my future wife."   

Cris cocked his head, "But I thought you were gay, Derek?"   

He held up a hand and shook his head, "Dream killer.  This is why you didn't _get_ a kiss on New Years."  Cris balked and laughed slightly while Benji shook his head, laughing and burying his head into Cris's arm.  Derek looked to Dominic and Micah, "And what about you two?  Who did you two beautiful boys lip lock into the New Year."    

"Each other," Dominic replied brightly; Cris and Benji fell over each other, laughing.   

Micah tried to stifle laughter, shrugging, "It was the only thing my girlfriend would agree too."   

Derek shook his head, laughing, "True bromance, right here."  Micah and Dominic looked at each other before throwing their arms around each other, hugging tightly.  Cris shook his head, breathless from laughing to so hard.  Derek sighed, "Wish I had a picture of that kiss."   

"Me too," Cris confided, throwing an arm around Dominic's shoulders, all four boys laughing and intertwined on the couch.

* * *

"It's Dorian, right?" Micah finally surmised when their table was all but covered in guacamole, salsa, nachos, empanadas, and a taco tray.   

Cris glanced up at him, taco halfway to his mouth, and studied him as he continued, taking a bite, slowly chewing and swallowing.  He took a sip of his soda, ignoring the way all three of his best friends had all but frozen, munching on their food, but all eyes on him, waiting patiently.  He cleared his throat and leaned back, "His real name's Irial."   

Dominic gaped, "Fuck me, seriously?  I thought that was all just over-exaggeration of a bromance.  Dorian...Irial...is _really_ your boyfriend?"

**Iri** : Your mate made out with your girlfriend O.o   

Cris grinned down at his phone, typing out a quick response; he hesitated, taking another sip of his soda and finishing off his taco before commenting, "I...maybe?  I mean, I don't know?  We never really talked about what we are."  _That_ was uncomfortable.  They were dating, right?  He wasn't sure he could handle casual with Irial, which left a sour taste in his mouth and a heavy weight in his stomach since he wasn't sure Irial wanted commit to a serious, monogamous relationship with Cris.   

Micah's expression softened, noting Cris's distress, but Dominic narrowed his eyes, Benji sighed and ran a hand through he blonde hair, "Don't freak out, Cris," he warned, "with the way you two talk I'm sure he adores you."   

Cris tried to smile, failed, and reached out for a nacho, trying not to overthink.  _What if this was just sex for Irial?_ Could Cris handle that?  Would he grin and bear it anyway just to be with Irial?   

_Well_ that's _not a question: yes._

"I just don't under why you didn't tell us you were gay!  Do you not...trust us?"  Dominic exclaimed indignantly, tongue tripping over the word 'trust' like he wan't sure he wanted to say it.   

Kicked puppy, honestly.

**Cris** : It's alright. I'd be more upset if he made out with my trophy wife.

**Iri** : Blonde GQ models arent my type. I go for the pretty princess.

**Iri** : I want a tattoo   

Cris smiled and shook his head, shooting off a quick message asking him what design he wanted and how random that was.  Benji smacked his arm, and he shot him a look that Benji pointedly ignored, jerking his chin in Dominic's direction to see him staring up at Cris with these huge Mort from Madagascar level of sad eyes.  Micah gave Cris a hard look, and Cris shook his head, "I'm not gay."   

That pronouncement received a reaction from everyone at the table.   

Benji cracked a tortilla chip in his hand.  Micah slammed his glass down on the table and looked at him incredulously, jaw clenched.  Dominic gaped at him, shaking his head, eyes blinking speedily, looking like he had no idea how he'd gotten to this point in life.   

Cris backtracked, "I'm not saying I'm straight.  I think once you give a guy a blowjob and then rim him before taking it up the ass, that ship has sailed."   

Dominic choked on a taco, coughing and sputtering while Micah just winced, face twisting as he took several long, deep swallows of his beer.  Punching his arm, Benji floundered a moment before managing to get out, "Crude."   

"Effective and honest, it's Irial.  Obviously we've shagged," Cris said.  Dominic snickered while Micah thumped his head on the table repeatedly.  Cris shrugged and popped another nacho in his mouth, swiping an empanada from the plate and peering at it warily.  He probably shouldn't eat quite this much.  "I'm not an internal homophobe with self-hate and plans on looking into electroshock therapy to 'cure' myself.  I'm not gay.  It was never an issue.  That's why I never said anything; it just never came up."   

"I'm confused," Dominic shook his head, scowling and tossing some shredded lettuce at Cris who shifted aside, narrowly avoiding the green shreds that stuck to the back of the booth thanks to its sour cream paste.  Benji glared at Dominic.   

Cris glanced down at his mobile when it buzzed, opening up the text Irial had sent him, which was actually nothing more than an image that he'd stolen from Cris's room of an eagle in flight, feathers coming free and flying off from behind him.  His lips curved up into a smile, and he replied by sending a sketch that he'd found online of a dreamcatcher, feathers dangling off it like the ones coming from the eagle and a couple falling free from their bonds.   

"That makes two of us," Micah agreed.   

Sighing, Cris dropped his mobile on the table top and looked between the pair of them, "I'm pansexual."  You could hear a pin drop, and the boys stared at him blankly, "I don't give a shit about people's gender basically.  I'm just attracted to _them_ like being bisexual except it's not a cope-out that basically means I have no idea what my sexuality is so I'll just go either way until I figure it out."   

Everyone nodded in understanding, picking at the food on the table, eyes on Cris as he talked, and he took a bite of his empanada, trying to gather his thoughts, "It never mattered because management had already pulled me aside to talk to me about my sexuality and keeping it quiet."   

"Wait, _management_ knows?"  Dominic bit out like he was personally offended.  Benji shook his head slowly.   

He backtracked again, "I had a boyfriend when the band first got together, but we'd already talked about breaking up if things went well with the band.  We were young and didn't want to do the long distance relationship thing.  We didn't.  Broke up right after we got signed."   

"How could you not—?" Dominic started before breaking off, taking a deep breath, closing his eyes and centering himself.  "Never mind, go on."   

Cris eyed him suspiciously for a minute, afraid he was about to blow, but Dominic just raised his chin haughtily, waving his hand imperiously for Cris to go on.  He did, "Management found out about him, then, and told me that it would affect popularity and sales if people knew I was gay.  I told them I wasn't and that Henry and I weren't serious anyway."   

"Henry who you introduced us to as your best mate, Henry?" Benji demanded.   

Shrugging, Cris answered, "Yeah."   

Benji and Dominic were obviously still stuck on unweaving Cris's webs of half truths while Micah cut straight to the quick, "That's why all those PR dates?  They were overcompensating."   

"Yeah, I don't think they believed me when I said I had no intention of dating while the band was still so new.  Anyway, since then it was just easier to date girls since it wouldn't hurt the band and management wouldn't be up my arse about everything," Cris admitted, his stomach rolling again as he realized that he'd completely disregarded the effect his relationship with Irial would have on the band.   

Micah, noticing the direction of his thoughts, kicked his shin under the table, catching Cris's eyes when they cut to him, "Stop it.  We love you."   

"But the band—" Cris began   

Benji scoffed, "Have you read some of those fanfics?  Our fans seem very into the gay."   

Dominic blushed and shook his head, embarrassed that they'd even been mentioned while Micah sniggered, throwing an arm over Dominic's shoulders and tucking him playfully into his side.  "Yeah baby, you and I are apparently really into BDSM, but the real question is do you top?  Or me?"  Dominic giggled, hiding his face in his hands.   

Benji and Cris shared a look before saying decisively, "Micah."   

Micah grinned and held his hands up triumphantly while Dominic slapped him in the chest, "Dicks, the lot of you, I swear."   

Cris's phone buzzed, and Benji glanced down at it, a sly smile crossing his lips as Cris swept it off the table, shooting him a warning, cautionary look.

**Iri** : Is that your way of saying you want to get a couples tattoo? Your romantic proposals need work princess.  
  
A part of him wondered about the fact that they were both so chill about getting a tattoo that even hinted at there being a connection between them, that would physically tether him more tightly to Irial than he already was emotionally.  Despite the fact that he wasn't exactly getting Irial's name inked into his forehead, he knew what his mother would say about this plan, but Cris just felt a little too thrilled about the idea.  It might not be the smartest idea, but it was definitely one that captivated Cris.  Plus, he'd been wanting a tattoo for a little while besides the one on his chest of Tilikum, the abused turned homicidal orca from SeaWorld, the bottom half of the whale done in the traditional Native style, and the pair of hands making a heart on his upper arm.   

Sighing, Cris collapsed back against the booth, fingers tapping on is full stomach and eyes taking in the boys who seemed to have relaxed after being shocked and apparently insulted by Cris's stinginess to share on his sexuality.  A smile curled his lips up as he looked at them, a weight he hadn't even realized he'd been carrying lifting when he realized that they still loved him in all his glorious psychosis anyway, "So, you're okay with this then?"   

"What?  You being a pansexual, because no, mate, that mind fucks me.  You really ought to decide on one or the other," Dominic lamented, mouth full of empanada.  Cris laughed.   

Micah cuffed him in the back of the head.  Benji sniggered and stole Micah's beer, taking a sip of it and tilting his head at Cris, "We adore you, Crissy-poo and always will even if you—what did you say again?—'given a guy a blowjob and then rim him before taking it up the ass'.  Did I get that right?"   

Micah looked a little green and held up a hand, "Just kindly never say that again."  Cris and Benji chuckled when Micah's face suddenly sobered, "Do you want to come out?"   

A hush fell over the table, radio silence, expectant and electrified; Cris hesitated just a tad too long, and Micah continued, "'Cause you know we'll stand behind you, right.  No matter the consequences."   

Cris swallowed the lump that had suddenly risen in his throat, beyond grateful for friends like these but a nervous fluttering feeling in his stomach, "I don't know."  It was honest and truthful and nerve-wracking, because it was one thing to know and one thing to support but another entirely to be under scrutiny and be called a fag and a sodomite and a wrong, a freak of nature.   

Micah nodded like he understood.   

He couldn't.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I wrote down everything from specifics of tour dates in upcoming chapters (I should just fucking go into music management if I'm going to make up fucking tour schedules for fun) to their family histories...but I forgot how many albums my fictional band had and had to go back through looking for any hints. Okay...well, at least I can laugh at myself.


	14. "Blurred Lines" Robin Thicke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Working with Harry vaguely equates the weird happenings of full moons and lunar eclipses...and Irial gains two Twitter follows...and then like 500K more.

**Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
The next person who orders an iced beverage is gonna get it #BoycottFrappuchinos  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
Photoshoot...lunch meeting...photoshoot...long day but I get to have dinner with @Ariella_Em106  
  
 **Dorian Grey (@DorianII)**  
I'm bored.  Someone entertain me! Oh and congrats to @rosieposie for taking 1st and 2nd in her riding division #RosieposieScores #Congratulations #NoIDontUnderstandHowThatWorks  
  
 **Chat between Dominic, Micah, and Benji**  
 **djkinsey** : What do you mean you can't go?  
 **chriscrossedmicah** : I mean Emma, Morgan, Jocelyn, and I are meeting up for lunch. I can't go.  
 **djkinsey** : You're ditching this mission for your mental sister, her boyfriend, and your PR girlfriend?  Seriously?  
 **mustlovedogs** : I kind of agree with Nic on this one.  
 **chriscrossedmicah** : Yeah. It's called being responsible.  Besides, Joce and Emma are friends.  Morgan and I are friends.  Joce and I are sort of friends.  It's no big deal.  
 **mustlovedogs** : You picked this date.  
 **chriscrossedmicah** : That's because it's the only time Cris is busy all day.  
 **djkinsey** : I can't believe you're bailing on meeting Dorian! After all I went through to find him. I did recon, broke into Cris's mobile, Twitter stalked his and Rosie's Tweets. And it was your plan.  
 **chriscrossedmicah** : ...actually it was Benji's.  
 **mustlovedogs** : Die Micah. You sold me out.  
 **djkinsey** : WHAT?!  
  
 **Tumblr Post: crissyswifeypoo**  
 **This Tattoo Delusion**  
Ok can all these Corian or Crispian or whatever shippers just stop it.  This is the same bullshit that's fucking the 1D fandom.  Everyone just stop being so damn deluded.  Dorian and Cris are best friends. BROMANCE.  Just because Dorian is gay doesn't mean he and Cris are fucking especially since Cris is obviously very straight.  So they got Woodstock and Snoopy tattoos...ok?  I mean, friends aren't allowed to get tattoos of two of the biggest bromance cartoon characters ever?  Chill the fuck out.  And seriously?  Drop the dreamcatcher thing.  They're freaking FEATHERS.  Both pictures are blurry.  There's no way you can tell if Cris's match the ones on Dorian's eagle that RosiePosie put up on Instagram.  Stop being ridiculous.  Blurry feathers, Snoopy and Woodstock, and some flirty Tweets don't equal some sort of hidden relationship. Let's everyone stop being retarded and let it go before you become the Larry shippers, for real.  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@DorianII I'm thinking a Lotus flower  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
A very manly flower @Cris_Emerson. I'm think cyanide or a handgun.  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@DorianII cyanide's neater and cheaper. I downloaded Flow onto your mobile #EntertainYourself  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
@Cris_Emerson...:D!

* * *

People assumed Irial liked slow days.  He didn't, actually, they bored him to tears.  That wasn't to say he liked busy days either, because he tended to get overwhelmed and easily frustrated.  He was picky; he didn't particularly like any day that didn't fall into his midline range of 'this is okay, I can get with this'...so maybe five days out of the year but those bills wouldn't pay themselves, which is why he continued to get his ass into work relatively on time to make people £2 coffees at slightly more than minimum wage.   

Currently, though, it had gone from a busy day to a slow day disgustingly quickly, which left Irial leaning against the counter frowning at his game of Flow with intensity usually reserved for Gold medal Olympic matches, politics, or a really good game of chess.  He poked his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, determined to get that annoying fucking neon yellow line to eat up the last 13% of the fucking board and attach itself to the other fucking neon yellow dot, because he fucking said so.  Maybe this game was a metaphor for his life all colored dots trying to reach its second point by swerving in weird direction and making weird paths to get there and, in the end, never quite managing to fit.   

Harry hip-checked Irial as he walked by, and Irial waved a hand in his face.  _Getaway before I straight up punch you in the face Harold Benton-Sterling; does it look like I have time for games, I'm trying to connect the dots._ Irial frowned; that didn't sound any better in his head than it would have aloud.   

Leaning closer, Harry whispered in Irial's ear, "Half of an internationally famous boyband is at the counter."   

Yelping, Irial looked up, his mobile clattering to the floor, and he winced at it made impact, banging his fist into Harry's shin as he bent to pick it up, discreetly looking up at the counter.   

Obviously, it was _his_ boybander, because Crispin had spent most of last night curled up beside Irial bitching about his busy schedule the next day.  About his morning photoshoot with the rest of Breaking Fourth, his mucho unwelcome lunch meeting with his management, and yet another solo photoshoot after that.  The highlight of his day, he'd claimed, face glowing with affection, was that his younger sister, Ariella, had come down from Dartmoor to spend the weekend bumming around London with him.  So, Irial's weekend looked pretty grim and lonely and sexually frustrating as his current object of affection and singular sex partner would be busy playing big brother in Chelsea.   

It was disgusting that he missed him already.   

Standing at the counter was the dyed blonde GQ model (Irial was convinced hair that blond couldn't possibly be natural) and the adorable if a little ADHD guy, eyes scanning the menu thoughtfully, slyly.  They didn't really seem to be there for the caffeine, which was unfortunate considering that the chances of it being a coincidence were pretty nil.  They had Starbucks out in Primrose Hill; there was no reason that they had to hike it all the way out to Hendon for a latte.  Harry grinned down at him, way too amused by the situation, and Irial flipped him off with one hand and snapped a picture of them with the other, sending it to Crispin via snapchat and helpfully captioned 'R they here 2 kill me?'   

His knee protested from squatting so long, and he gritted his teeth, rising to his feet and shooting a desperate look at Harry who whistled, turning back to refill the coffee machine like he hadn't just done that five minutes ago.  Rolling back his shoulders and putting on a game face he wasn't sure he possessed, Irial walked to the counter and blinked at them, unable to fake a smile when he felt so nauseous, "What can I get you?"   

The ADHD one, Dominic, Irial thought, beamed at Irial, "Are you Irial Dorian?"   

Irial winced and grimaced, "Where did you hear _that_ name?"  Dominic blinked, taken aback by the vehemence in Irial's question, and he saw Harry shaking his head out of the corner of his eye.  This is why they usually didn't work shifts together; it was like being hit by a solar flare or a lunar eclipse, weird shit happened _always_.  "And is that always how you greet people?  Forget 'hi, how's your day' just cut to the chase and demand answers from people like you have any right to know them?"   

Dominic gaped, Harry mimed banging his head against the coffee machine, and Benji laughed, "I'll take a venti hazelnut coffee, black.  And I'm Benji, by the way, you are?"   

"Not interested," Irial deadpanned, turning to Dominic.  "See?  _That's_ a proper greeting...but only if we're in this fine caffeine establishment I'm employed by; if you try to order me to get you a hazelnut coffee in my own home, we might have a bit of a problem."   

"I was serious about the coffee," Benji frowned.  Irial ignored him, and Dominic pouted.   

Irial's mobile lit up, and he opened it up to Cris's shellshocked, quizzical expression and a caption of 'WTF is this?'   

Dominic looked from Irial to Benji and back to Irial, shifting nervously, "Um...I'm sorry."

**Irial** : Don't worry they're here for the coffee flavored condoms not murder

**Crispin** : ...why don't we ever use those?   

Irial choked on a laugh, looking up to see a girl in the corner raising her camera to snap a picture of the two internationally famous popstars having a casual (if mildly reprimanding) conversation with the Starbucks barista.  He froze; he'd met what he'd said about anonymity, and if some twelve year old with a camera phone posted up a picture of the two chatting with him during work the creepy fangirl detectives would have his birth certificate, driver's license, and permanent record in a week tops.  Luckily, another body stepped between his face and the view of the camera, nudging Dominic out of the way with hips and placing her hands on the counter top.   

"Irial Mackenzie Dorian Greyson," Rosie said flatly.   

Sighing, Irial shook his head, "What did I supposedly do this time, Rosemary?"   

Dominic just perked up, grinning between the two of them, "So it is you!"   

Rosie glanced at him, stared for a moment until his smile began to fade; her eyes flitted from him to Benji who stared back just as focused, her gaze slid back to Dominic, "You're Dominic Kinsey."   

Dominic and Benji stiffened, "Yeah."   

She looked him up and down, lip curling before she turned back to Irial, "You know, I thought you wanted to keep a low profile?  That's a bit necessary for _anonymity_."   

"Thank you, Captain Obvious, any other grains of wisdom you'd care to share with the class?"   

Rosie shrugged, "No."  She turned to Dominic and Benji, "You're Dominic Kinsey and Benjamin 'Benji' Irving, Cris's best friends and band members.  I'm Rosemary Ireland, you call me either Rose or Rosie, I'll answer to both, if you call me Rosemary you'll have to look for new careers seeing as I'll rip out your vocal chords with my blunt nails.  I'm Irial's flatmate and occasionally best friend."   

Dominic gaped at her while Benji smiled and nodded, "Nice to meet you."   

"That remains to be seen," Irial and Rosie said in tandem.   

Harry appeared at Irial's arm, handing Benji his coffee and muscling his way in between the register and Irial.  Irial glared at his friend as he rang Benji up, not sparing Irial a single glance.  Rosie bowed her head and hid her mouth behind her hand to hide the smile that spread across her face.   

"That's Harold BS," Rosie began her customary misleading introduction, and Irial smirked and shook his head while Harry just sighed and looked heavenward for holy assistance, which wouldn't be enough to stop Rosie when she got started.  "Our not-quite a flatmate, general pain-in-the-ass, and part-time cook/maid."   

"Multifunctional, huh?" Dominic chortled.   

Rosie beamed at him, "Exactly!"   

Shaking his head, Harry corrected her, "I'm _Harry_.  Harry Benton-Sterling."   

"Or Potter," Irial leaned forward and whispered, Harry's face hardening when Dominic and Benji shared an amused look.  Ruffling his hair, Irial's grin widened as Harry tried to brush away his hand, "This grunge era hair's just about as much of wreck."   

"He shaved his head, though," Dominic argued.   

"Looked like a right skinhead, he did," Benji sighed, shaking his head sadly.   

"Not in the book," Irial and Rosie corrected.   

When his phone buzzed, Irial looked down, frowning at the message, which had taken an abrupt turn from their previous topic of conversation.  It was weird and very generally against the grain of their typical conversation pattern that he wasn't really sure how to respond to it.

**Irial** : I could bring them out for valentines, but I was leaning towards chocolate syrup

**Crispin** : I'm sorry about Benji and Nic.

**Irial** : It's fine. They're just looking out for you. Relax. I'm not gonna cease all contact because your best mates are mental. Bit hypocritical of me, don't you think? Since mine is an evil mastermind and the other's his hit man.

Rosie and Benji quickly turned three comments into a full blown discussion on whether or not the Harry Potter books had as unbelievably surpassed the movie franchise, which Rosie said yes because, obviously, _Half-Blood Prince_ almost made _New Moon_ look like a cinematic triumph.  But Benji had only two words in reply to that: _Philosopher's Stone_.  Irial could understand that; the first book had been, quite literally, very short and very sweet, to the point and dry.   

The first girl, an adorable ten-year-old with pigtails, braved swamping rejection and made her way over to Dominic who just watched Benji and Rosie's animated discussion with amusement on his face, occasionally sharing long-suffering glances with Harry.  The girl tugged on Dominic's pant leg, and he startled, drawing Benji's attention, as he looked down at the girl, offering her a gentle, reassuring smile.  She thrust out a sheet of paper, and Dominic gave her a conspiratorial smile.   

"You want me to sign this?"  The girl bit her lip and nodded slowly, and Irial could see Rosie physically fighting back whatever sarcastic reply she had for that question.  Irial took the paper and signed, looking up at Benji and leaning closer to the little girl, stag whispering, "This big lug's too?"  She giggled and nodded while Benji feigned affront, snatching the paper from Dominic and signing it with a flourish, presenting it to the girl with a bow.   

"Thank you," she said sweetly, waving goodbye to them before scurrying back to her waiting mother who gave the boys a grateful and simultaneously apologetic smile.   

Rosie shook her head, "What _is_ life?"   

"You get used to it," Dominic replied, though his face said it never got any less uncomfortable.

**Crispin** : HARRY'S the evil mastermind? Are you alright?

**Irial** : No, I'm in Crispin withdrawal...and it's always the quiet ones.

**Crispin** : *:   

It seemed that one little girl had opened the floodgates to the rest of the restaurant giving up any pretenses; Rosie vaulted over the counter as the crowd converged, gently, mind you, but still.  The crowd wasn't that big, but it was still weird watching them take pictures with people, sign napkin and coffee cups and t-shirt (after Irial had _gently_ reminded her in a loud bellow that shirts were a part of decorum and policy in that particular establishment and were to be worn at all times within).  Benji had laughed.  Dominic had pouted, which Irial was starting to believe was just his default setting.   

When the crowd had settled, the two boys sat down at a small table, giving Irial a pointed wave, and he sighed, composing a quick Tweet in response and trying to ignore the niggling feeling in his stomach that he'd never noticed since he'd never quite experienced _that_.  The little feeling that he didn't belong here, had no place in Crispin's life, which was so drastically different than Irial's quiet, private one.  Harry put a gentle hand on his shoulder, reminding him where he was and snapping him out of the mood before his doubts had him dialing Cris's number, hysterical and in no mind to have a rational conversation about all his landfill sized shitload of fears and insecurities...not that he'd _ever_ be in the mind for that talk but still.  Rosie gave him a level look, a knowing glint in her eye, and it probably wasn't misleading.  She had an uncanny ability to be on the same page as him when it came to two things: arguments and insecurities.

**Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
Shame @BenjiDIrving and @Nic_Kinsey didn't get mobbed #ThatWouldBeJustice #JustSaying   

The pair looked up at him when they got the message, and Dominic grinned at him wickedly a moment before his phone pinged decisively.  He screwed up his face and glowered when he saw that both Benji and Dominic had followed him; Irial's scowled at them, and they laughed, giving him smirks and finger waves in response.  Like Irial needed anymore of the Breakers to follow him.  How about no?   

Irial's life was getting complicated enough.


	15. "Beautiful Remains" Black Veil Brides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sick popstars should not be taken to the studio...especially not easily bored ones.

**Girlfriend Swapping and Secret Dates**  
Valentine's Day answered a lot of fan questions about just who exactly the boys of Breaking Fourth are hooking up with these days.  Always the stable romantic, Micah Cross took girlfriend of two years, Jocelyn Penderghast, out for a day on the town including shopping, a movie, and culminating in a romantic dinner out on the Thames.  Their brief sojourn into a jewelry store left us all salivating for that proposal we're all hoping is right around the corner.  Despite rumors and sightings of Cris Emerson and Penney Dear, it turns out that it isn't the youngest and most flirtatious member who stole Penney's heart but the strong and silent model types.  Yep, that's right, Benji Irving surprised both us and Penney by publicly serenading her before treating her to a picnic in the park complete with her favorite Italian foods. Someone's smitten.  While Dominic Kinsey dismissed any rumors over his activities, Tweeting "...and I'm just here like I love reality tv. Chocolate, wine, and a Housewives marathon for me", Cris Emerson kept the rumor mill churning.  A source says the popstar dropped some serious cash to completely rent out Benton's Irish Pub just outside of Hendon and while no one seems to know who the teen is so taken with there seems to be no shortage of chances to find out.  
  
 **Dominic Kinsey (@Nic_Kinsey)**  
It's springtime...almost...sort of :)  
  
 **Irish Rose (@rosieposie)**  
@Nic_Kinsey it's barely a week into March. That doesn't qualify as 'spring'  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
I think I'm dying #ImSick #IFeelLikeCrap  
  
 **Dorian Grey (@DorianII)**  
@Cris_Emerson who told you to put on a jacket? This is why we don't listen to @Nic_Kinsey in regards to seasons  
  
To: crossesoflead@gmail.com.uk; mustlovedogs@gmail.com.uk; djkinsey@gmail.com.uk; chriscrossedmicah@gmail.com.uk  
From: sawyer.ashton@dissidentmanagement.org.uk  
Subject: Shoot Postponement  
Boys,  
As requested by Cris Emerson, the music video will be pushed back five days, the standard time it takes to recover from a cold.  You'll have to be on set Monday, March 9 by 7:00 for hair and makeup.  We'll try to get as much done in that time as we can and hopefully have no need to shoot on Tuesday as well since we're already delayed.  If you have any questions or concerns send me an email.  
Ashton Sawyer  
Dissident Management

* * *

"Eat your soup," Irial instructed patiently, raising his eyebrows at Crispin's sour look.   

Crispin, Irial had discovered in the first ten seconds of Crispin waking up beside him with a cough, puffy eyes, and a runny nose, bitching about being cold and gross and deathly ill, was not a very good patient.  He didn't want to eat because he was "not hungry and grossed out" because he could "feel the mucus running down his throat and into his stomach."  He wouldn't rest because he was "busy and had people relying on him to get up and start his day", which is coincidentally how Ashton Sawyer had received a distracted email from "Crispin" at two in the morning saying he was infected, had a sore throat, and would never be able to sing again if he didn't get time off (slight exaggeration but whatever, it had been effective).  He wouldn't even drink tea because it "tastes wrong".   

Rosie had squeezed her stress ball in her fist, about ready to take off Crispin's head, and even Harry, sitting cross-legged and shirtless on the counter, had asked how Irial—who was certainly not know for his patience—could stand him.  Irial had hesitated and stuttered over how he was a little exasperated but more charmed and endeared by sick Crispin than anything else.  Rosie had feigned throwing up in the kitchen sink, and Harry had just shaken his head and bluntly deemed him to be 'whipped'.   

When Crispin had tried to leave so he "wouldn't be a bother", Irial had drawn the line, because the eighteen year old obviously couldn't care for himself beyond basic food and drink survival skills and would choke on his mucus, withering away and shriveled from dehydration if left to his own devices.  As it was, Irial had all but force-fed Crispin Tylenol, conned him into downing two cups of peppermint tea (with kisses and a blowjob he'd probably regret when it was him dying on the couch), and all but shoved a lozenge down his throat, forgoing classes to babysit his adult boyfriend.  He'd even made a food run (with a sniveling, clingy Crispin bundled up like an eskimo in the passenger's seat) to some random shop to get Crispin a £6 Malaysian chicken satay soup (whatever that meant) and was the only thing he'd agree to eat (Irial got another two containers to go).  Then, he'd gotten the call from Rosie chirping about how his boyfriend needed rest and Irial had to be in studio in thirty minutes so he'd better not be balls deep in his ass.   

That'd be nice, but Irial cared about Crispin way too much to do anything but coddle him like a baby when he looked near collapse, stuffed up, and...well, frankly...miserable.  And Crispin was clingy when ill like he was afraid a stuffed up nose and wicked cough would convince Irial that he wasn't worth all the secrecy and fangirl fixations and looming possibility of a media feeding frenzy, which was how Irial felt in reverse about 99% of the time, because Crispin was amazing and gorgeous and patient and sexy and understanding and thoughtful and cheeky and charming and about a million other tiny things that had seeped into Irial's pores, settling firmly under skin like tattoo ink.   

So that was how he found himself ordering the kid to eat his damn soup and drink his damn water during the final bars of 'Back Where We Belong' by The Last Goodnight.   

Crispin scowled but did take a bit, sticking his tongue out at Irial when he smiled smugly.  Irial snapped a picture of him with a wide grin, and Crispin rolled his eyes, snuggling deeper into Irial's Middlesex sweatshirt and Rosie's borrowed zebra print Snuggie.  Irial smiled softly at him, jerking his head around when he saw Rosie rapping her knuckles against the window, pointing to his headphones, face hard.  _This_ is probably why she'd shared a grimace with Harry when Crispin had insisted he sit in the studio with Irial.  He was a distraction when he wasn't in the room, doubly so now.   

"And we're back and that brilliant song was 'Back Where We Belong' by The Last Goodnight, which I'll admit I found when watching a video on why people thought this Corian/Crispian—you really need to decide on a single ship name, by the way—was real.  So thanks for that gem of a find."   

Irial's phone buzzed.  He glanced sideways at Crispin who looked too innocent and peered at the screen.

**Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
I'm bored...and sick and really bored...   

He rolled his eyes at his boyfriend, kicking his shin and pointing to his water.   

Crispin sighed and muttered, "Bossy."  The word wasn't said loudly, but it was still audible.  Rosie gave Crispin a death glare through window, and if look could kill he wouldn't even be a puddle on the floor, he'd be straight up particles recycled into the atmosphere.  Harry motioned for Irial to keep going, and Crispin sipped his water, giving Irial a winning smile.   

Adorable little shit, really.   

"So the biggest news in the world of pop culture is, apparently, the release of 'I Think I Could Love You' by Breaking Fourth.  The album, for those of you who actually care," Irial smiled impishly at Cris who wrinkled his nose at Irial, unimpressed, "is called 'Seize the Day' and is going to be released...March 28?"  Crispin nodded sagely, coughing slightly, and Irial dug in his pocket, handing Cris a cough drop that he took and popped into his mouth with a scowl.  "March 28th," Irical confirmed, "I'm personally impressed it hasn't been leaked yet."   

Cris shot Irial a quick glare that didn't have quite as much affect when he looked such an exhausted wreck.  Irial smiled at him, leaning over to kiss his cheek and ruffle his hair before continuing, "This single, though, let's talk about _that_ because I'm definitely getting mixed messages.  Some people love it, some people hate it, some people apparently don't get it, which...how can you not get it?  It makes perfect sense.  How much more information do you need other than the title?  It wasn't 'Wish You Well', which was definitely a little out there and really had _nothing_ to do with the song.  Kind of like the band name.  Breaking Fourth...with a 'u'...what _is_ that even?"   

"What are you going on about?" Cris blurted, shaking his head at Irial.  Rosie slapped her hand against her forehead, shaking her head while Irial just raised an eyebrow at Cris.   

"Aren't you supposed to be a _silent_ observer?  Key word: _silent_ ," Irial remarked patiently.   

"You're awfully bossy," Cris whined, and Irial patted his leg.   

"I think that's quite enough out of you, you're supposed to be resting."   

The door opened just then, and Harry spared Cris an exasperated look before turning to Irial, "Twitter's exploding.  The Breakers want to know if it's Cris.  They're pretty positive it is."   

Irial sighed and looked over at Cris who just gave him a wide-eyed, innocent smile, "You make my life so difficult, princess."   

"I can rest and talk," Cris said hopefully.  "Besides, boredom isn't good for my illness."   

"I don't remember the doctor ever saying that," Irial replied, but he nodded at Harry anyway, against his better, more sound judgment.  He reached over to the second mic, settling the headphones of Cris's ears for him and giving him a quick peck on the lips before leaning back in his seat and looking at the window; Harry held his thumbs up, and Irial nodded, "Alright, so, yes, my best mate who's supposed to be on bed rest has apparently decided to hijack the show.  So, Crispin, do you want to talk about the song or the name?"   

"I could talk about both I suppose.  The name's not all that interesting.  It was Nic's idea, really, he wanted to break the fourth wall as musicians."   

"And did you?"   

"Well...not really," Crispin smiled sheepishly.   

"Lovely that.  On the plus side, wasn't exactly a self fulfilling prophecy."   

"What are you talking about, I thought I was a struggling musician?"   

"That would explain why you forced me to buy you a £6 Malaysian soup, wouldn't it?"   

Cris cocked his head and grinned affectionately at Irial, "It was only 5.50, it's not my fault you bought three of them.  I'm not exactly an army.  And you didn't have to.  You could have just left me in peace."   

"To die of malnutrition and dehydration in your massive posh apartment?  The Breakers would riot," Irial confessed honestly.  Crispin laughed, and Irial studied him, "What do you think of the fan reaction to 'I Think I Could Love You'?"   

"I dunno," Cris shrugged, "I definitely don't think it's hard to understand.  It's about as straight forward as 'Loving You Is Easy' and 'We Can't Stop' isn't it?"   

"Well who wrote this song?"   

"Um...I did?" Cris blushed furiously, looking down at his lap and refusing to meet Irial's gaze.   

Irial's mouth dropped open in surprise, eyes cutting to the window to see both Rosie and Harry taken aback.  Harry recovered the quickest, motioning brusquely for Irial to keep going.  And he forced his mouth closed, studying Cris's profile, willing him to look at him because had he written that about _Irial_?  He needed to screw his head on right and breathe.  Rosie shook her head, typing quickly, and his phone buzzed; in a daze, he reached for it, reading it with as much a lighthearted tone as he could muster.   

"Serenading Penney Dear?"   

Cris blinked, swallowed, and still wouldn't meet Irial's gaze, "Funny, I don't think Benji would appreciate that."   

"Oh, so the Sun's right, then?  You secretly hiding some mystery woman up in Hendon?"   

Stiffening, Cris tried to force a smile and failed.  Irial just wanted Crispin to look at him, "Quite the story isn't it?  Their about the only ones who don't realize that my best mate goes to school up here.  Why _wouldn't_ I be up here?"   

"Oh, planning romantic dates for me on Valentine's Day then, are you?"  Irial goaded.   

It worked, dancing on that delicate edge.  Cris looked at him, wide-eyed, and Irial gave him a bland smile.   

Crispin had, in fact, planned a romantic date for his best mate on Valentine's Day.  Irial had thought he'd forgotten all about the fact that he had a boyfriend and wasn't even going to come see him on Valentine's Day so he'd taken up Rosie's offer to head over to Harry's family's pub, Benton's, just a few blocks away from Middlesex.  Instead, he'd gotten there to find it cleared and closed with only the chefs, their waiter, and a recording of Soren Reid playing Irial's favorite song in Les Miserables.  Crispin had convinced the pub's chef to make all of Irial's favorite foods including Black Forest cheesecake for desert.  He'd even gotten Irial tickets to go see Les Miserables performed at the Queen's Theatre, which had just gone on to prove how frighteningly in tune they were since Irial had gotten an art student friend of his to sketch out a Lotus flower hand tattoo for Crispin and then prepaid with Crispin's favorite tattoo artist so that he could get it done whenever (he'd gotten in done the next day).   

"Do you think that crosses a line in our bromance?" Crispin mused, though his face appeared stricken.   

Irial frowned at him, "No, no, boning would cross the line.  I think romantic Valentine's dates just prove that we are utterly too co-dependent."   

"Do you think it helps then we you hold me captive and force-feed me cough drops and peppermint tea?"   

"I'm willing to waive our co-dependency boundaries if it means keeping you from shriveling up and dying in your big, lonely flat."  Crispin looked like he was about to throw up, and Irial cut his eyes to Rosie who looked between the two of them, frowning but she nodded in understanding.  Harry just pointed to Crispin who had curled in on himself, hiding his nose and mouth in the folds of the Snuggie.  "Alright, we're going to take a break so I can forcefully give Crispin a Tylenol; for your listening pleasure and in honor of our guest 'Crash Your Party' by Karmin.  We'll be back with your questions in just a moment."   

When the song started playing, Rosie put her thumbs up, and Irial swung his legs off of the table and took off the headphones.  He turned Crispin's chair, squatting down in front of him, looking up at Crispin's guilt-stricken, anxious expression, his stomach twisting painfully.  Crispin stared at his hands, eyes welling with tears, and Irial's hand covered Crispin's, "Crispin?"   

"I'm sorry," he blurted, shaking his head and meeting Irial's gaze, frantic.  "I shouldn't have written it, I know.  I wasn't...I mean...I didn't think, and it wasn't like anything was going on then.  I didn't think anything _would_."   

Irial blinked at Crispin, trying and failing to both take in and understand his words, "What are you going on about?"   

"It's just...it's not a big deal, the song.  I know that you don't want to settle down, and we're not..." he coughed, panicked and tripping over the words while Irial just squeezed his hands, thumb absently rubbing circles into his knuckles.  "It's fine that we're not like that.  The song was just...I don't know.  It doesn't have to be... _we_ don't have to be..."   

"Alright, stop," Irial said, grabbing Crispin's hand gently into his hands.  He wiped away a few tears that had sprung loose, trickling slowly over his cheeks, "You think I'm angry about you writing a song about how you think you could fall in love with me?"   

Crispin swallowed, a guilty look crossing his face, "I knew going into this that you don't date.  It's fine.  I shouldn't have..." he took a shuttering breath, and Irial shushed him, pulling him into a long, deep kiss, trying to communicate without words just how ludicrous the thought Irial didn't want Crispin in every way possible actually was.  How much Irial adored him and breathed him in and needed him like oxygen.  How Crispin had gotten so far underneath Irial's tough skin that even Crispin's obvious distress pained Irial on a level both visceral and physical like he couldn't breathe right until Crispin's world was stable.   

"Alright, love," Irial murmured against his lips, breathing in sync, tangled around each other.  His knees and legs screamed at him for squatting so long, and he took care of the problem by climbing into Crispin's lap, keeping their faces pressed close together, hands still holding his head.  They locked gazes, and Irial only grew more determined when he saw the look of reluctant hope in Cris's eyes, "let's get this straight.  I don't date because I have a hard time believing people will stay.  I've never known anyone who did."  Cris deflated, starting to look down, but Irial's fingers shifted to his hair, tugging sharply to keep him focused on Irial, "But you just fuck all my rules, don't you?  I dunno how to breathe without you anymore.  You're the first person I ever did a Valentine's Day with, the first person I cared enough about to bother with it for.  I got a tattoo for you... _two_ actually."  Cris's eyes started to water once again, a bright smile beginning to spread over his face.  Irial ran his fingers through Crispin's hair and leaned in for another kiss, savoring the feel and scent and warmth of Crispin, pulling back and rolling his eyes, smiling affectionately when they broke apart for Crispin to cough.   

Crispin smiled sheepishly, and Irial took out another cough drop, taking off the wrapper and pressing the candy to Crispin's lips.  He held Irial's gaze as he opened his mouth, tongue darting out to take the candy from Irial's fingers, dancing teasingly over the tips of Irial's fingers.  Irial pecked Crispin's lips and continued, "We've basically been dating for five months just minus the sex for the first three.  Don't ever think you're not one of the most important things in my life.  You're my boyfriend, love; it would sort of suck if you weren't."  Crispin beamed at Irial who only rolled his eyes and ruffled his hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead.   

The door opened, and Harry peeked his head inside, "'Adore You' is almost over."   

Nodding and holding Crispin's gaze, Irial gave him one last, deep kiss that left them both a little breathless before hopping off Crispin's lap and collapsing back in his chair, "I'm ready."  Harry looked skeptical but chose to just throw in the towel, slamming the door closed behind him.   

Irial looked over at Crispin who met his eyes, positively glowing, and Irial winked, pulling on his headphones just as the song ended, "And _that_ , ladies and gentlemen, was 'Adore You' by Miley Cyrus...not one of my favorites but it'll do, and before that you heard 'Crash Your Party' by Karmin and 'The Mixed Tape' by Jack's Mannequin.  Now, I promised Q and A, and I'm not one to break my promises so the only question is, you ready Crispin?'   

Crispin met and held Irial's gaze, "Whenever you are."   

Smirking, Irial raised his chin in acknowledgment that that wasn't entirely in response to Irial's question, flicking on his phone and clicking on the hashtag, reading the first question that popped up, "So, people want to know if you're planning getting anymore tattoos.  Apparently they're really hot."   

"Are they?"   

"They very much are," Irial assured Crispin who gave him a coy smile, shaking his head.   

"Of course, you can never have too many tattoos as far as I'm concerned."   

"I don't know if I believe that," Irial hedged while Crispin smiled innocently, shrugging.  Irial went on, "There are a lot of people asking if we're dating.  I don't know, are we Crispin?"   

Crispin beamed at Irial and bit his bottom lip, not quite able to contain how he was practically incandescent, joy oozing out of him, "I feel like we are.  You're around me all the time."   

"And that's _my_ fault?"  Irial scoffed, "Who's the one always driving their fancy sports car all the way up to campus because you don't know anyone else nearly as cool as me who'll willingly indulge your Lord of the Rings movie marathons?  Or the _Star Trek_ _ones_ , God forbid.  Starting rumors about secret romances and illicit affairs."   

"You love it," Crispin remarked.   

"No comment," Irial responded smartly.  "How about this one, then.  @DominicaChica wants to know Crispian or Corian?  So, crunch time princess, by which ship name shall our bromance be dubbed?"   

Pausing, Crispin hesitated, studying Irial before simpering, "I actually prefer Crispian.  I think it's _fairer_.  The other one's all _you_.  I don't know; which one do you like?"   

Irial grabbed Crispin's hand, linking their fingers and meeting Crispin's eyes, "Whatever you want babe."   

Rosie mimed puking.   

Crispin beamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the soup and the place where Irial got it actually exists because I do love to do research...but I can't remember the name of the place or what the hell is actually in the soup, but it is actually that expensive. It's a fucking $9 soup...O_O


	16. "The Unfaithful" Memphis May Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Management makes an appearance. Cris forgets relationships require communication. And Irial's life is simultaneously looking down and up.

**Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
@breakingfourth album release today. I can ogle at my man-crush @Cris_Emerson on the tv  
  
 **Lacey Hardwicke (@lace_it_up_)**  
@DorianII doesn't your bf ever get jealous about your bromance with @Cris_Emerson? #askdorian #crispian #dorianspeaks #CrisEmerson #DorianII  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@DorianII lmao that's dedication. That's an 8 hr time difference when I could just send you a picture #YouKnowYoullBeSleeping  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
@lace_it_up_ we wouldn't be together it if did #brosbeforehoes #orwhatever  
  
To: crossesoflead@gmail.com.uk  
From: sawyer.ashton@dissidentmanagement.org.uk  
Subject: Pre-Release Party Meeting  
Cris,  
We need to sit down together and touch base before Breaking Fourth's appearance on iHeart Radio  On that note, I've scheduled a lunch meeting.  It should be quick enough.  
Ashton Sawyer  
Dissident Management  
  
 **Group MMS from Cris to Micah, Benji, and Dominic**  
 **Cris** : Does anyone else have a random, spontaneous meeting with Ashton? I'm a little nervous. This isn't going to about the Celtic knot tat I just got, right?  Because it's on my back.  You can't even see it. And anyway, Benji's starting to look like a children's coloring book.  
 **Benji** : Arse.  
 **Dominic** : No to the meeting mate.  
 **Micah** : Irial? The Crispian ship has kind of exploded over the last few weeks after your stint on Dorian Speaks.  
  


 **Tumblr Post Thread**  
 **itscrispianbitches**  
 **I Think I Could Love You**  
Are we not going to talk about how that song is obviously about Dorian.  Secretly likes Justin Bieber (Rosie Posie said 'Baby' is one of Dorian's ringtones) Talks a lot of shit (Dorian Speaks) but listens to him all the time (the boys said Cris listens to the show).  Won't cook and clean (Dorian says Potter does all that)  Reads romance novels (Les Miserables, Twilight, Sylvia Day, Pride and Prejudice) Cries at movie scenes (how many times have Dorian, Cris, and even Rosie Posie posted that)?  
 **HotSexyCrissy**  
Are we not gonna talk about how Dorian said he got a Celtic cross tattoo on his back and Cris got a Celtic knot between his shoulder blades?

* * *

Lunch meetings sounded so innocuous like it was just two people grabbing a bit to eat and going over numbers or something, but given the way everyone on their management team had given shifty, half-assed answers when Cris had pressed what exactly this meeting was supposed to be about, he figured _this_ was not _that_.   

He sat at the table, ramrod straight, nursing a coffee, black, and all that undiluted caffeine certainly wasn't doing anything to help his frazzled nerves.  Cris practically jumped out of his seat when 'Someone, Somewhere' by Asking Alexandria screamed from his phone.  Hands shaking, he pried the mobile out of his too-tight jean's pocket, stomach settling at the realization that it was the text tone Irial had programmed into his phone with a wide, pointed smile before Cris had left.

 **Iri** : You downloaded Seize the Day into my mobile? You leaked your own album? O.O   

A smile slowly spread across Cris's face, the pressure in his chest easing just a little as he read and re-read what Irial had sent him.  It was pretty pathetic that Cris's whole world could stabilize just from a text message from someone he'd only known for six months while they had five thousand miles and an eight hour time different between them.  It didn't change how much Cris craved contact with Irial so much that he'd made sure to be awake at midnight Los Angeles time just so that he could call Irial and wake him up in the morning for classes.   

Yeah, Cris was that kind of co-dependent.

 **Cris** : Figured we could skip a step. Now you don't have to find a copy to illegally download  
  
 **Iri** : Psssh like I would do that...I'm a poor uni student. I can't afford shit like that   

Cris scoffed aloud, peering around for any sign of Ashton before switching over to Snapchat and sending Irial a picture of his really dubious expression.  One thing Cris had quickly had learned about the Ireland/Dorian/Benton-Sterling flat was that for all the bitching they did about being 'poor uni students surviving off of Ramen noodles', they always seemed to be just fine.  Between the three of them, Harold worked two jobs, one at the same Starbucks as Rosie and Irial, and the other at his father/mother/step-father's pub, bought all the groceries and cleaning supplies and paid no rent on his own flat because he technically still lived with his father, Rosie had her income but also got paid to ride in competitions at the stables she volunteered at in addition to receiving random monetary gifts from family in the States afraid she'd starve in London, and Irial had some sort of emergency fund he never talked about and rarely touched.   

Irial was shifty about his past like that.

 **Iri** : <3   

Someone cleared their throat, and Cris glanced up with wide-eyes as Ashton Sawyer unbuttoned his jacket and sat down at the table across from Cris, his face genial, polite, which frightened Cris a lot more than the usual looks of disdain and annoyance he was used to producing with the boys' unwelcome antics and the occasional misplaced comment.   

Ashton Sawyer was everything that Cris kind of wished he wasn't; he didn't look like the total asshole that he was.  Ashton was charming and suave and urbane, always well dressed and well groomed and just...well done.  It was annoying.  _He_ was annoying.  But that might have just been the spark of rebellion that had been growing in Cris talking; Cris hadn't really minded management one way or another until he'd started his relationship with Irial, and they'd begun trying to reign in Cris's interaction with the outspoken and rather uncouth older boy with little to no actual, tangible return on the instruction they gave him.  Micah might have had a point as to what this meeting was about.   

"Cris," Ashton began, sipping what looked like some kind of pretentious latte with his legs crossed and dark blue eyes fixed on Cris.   

"Ashton," Cris replied flatly, not in the mood for niceties when he could already tell he wasn't going to like where this conversation was going.   

Ashton swallowed his latte and put it down, folding his hands on the table top, "Almost three years ago, we had a discussion.  I'm sure you remember it."   

"How could I forget that?  I was barely aware there was a closet to come out of, and you were shoving me into it."   

"You said that this wouldn't be a problem."   

Cris sighed and shook his head, "I said that _Henry_ wouldn't be an issue, and he wasn't."   

"Let me cut to the chase, then," Ashton said dismissively.  "We told you time and time again not to be quite so publicly flirtatious with Dorian lest people think you're together."   

"We are," Cris cut him off, noting the way Ashton stilled, lips pursing and eyes drifting upwards as he thought something over seriously.  "I've been dating him for the last three months."   

"And you didn't think that was important to tell us?" Ashton demanded.   

Cris stiffened; he could feel his face hardening, "I didn't think my personal life was management's business."   

"It is when your personal life can impact the success of this band.  We talked about the impact that where you stick your dick could have on Breaking Fourth three years ago.  Apparently you didn't get the memo quite as much as you pretended you did," Ashton shook his head.  Cris narrowed his eyes on Ashton, furious and more than a little offended, uncertain whether or not to take that personal, but definitely taking the caustic comment to heart anyway.  Pulling out his phone, Ashton began to type quickly, "We need to get ahead of this before this 'ship' starts ruining everything the band has worked for the last three years."   

It was an accusation that Cris couldn't stand, like Irial was terminal disease and Cris's sexuality was a blight on his and Breaking Fourth's success.   

"I'm not Micah," Cris bit out, making Ashton look up at him.  "I won't do that to Irial."   

Ashton sighed tiredly, squeezing the bridge of his nose but acquiesced, "Fine, it's not like you want to come out."   

A beat of silence passed between them, and Ashton glowered at Cris who simply shrugged.   

"What if I do?"  Ashton's look could peel paint, but Cris continued anyway, "My sexuality isn't something to be ashamed of.  _Irial_ isn't someone to be ashamed of.  I'm not saying I want to come out right now, but if things go the way I'm hoping they will with Irial, I want that to at least be a possibility.  A good portion of the fanbase already believes we're together, what's wrong with eventually telling them I'm not 100% straight, and I'm in a committed relationship with a man."   

Putting his phone down on the table pointedly, Ashton leveled Cris with a serious look, "First of all, 'Dorian' is not the kind of person you come out for or with.  The press would crucify you."  Cris bristled, furious, and opened his mouth to defend Irial, but Ashton kept going, ploughing over anything Cris wanted to say, "He drinks too much, smokes too much, and proudly tells the world about his partying, drunken exploits, and shags.  It doesn't matter if he stopped them for you.  It doesn't matter that he's funny and charismatic and magnetic.  He'll always be a drunken playboy to the press, one wrong move away from falling back into old habits.   

"Secondly, the kinky fringes of the fanbase believe that you and Dorian are shagging.  Not a 'good portion' and not 'half'.  A good portion believes your straight and Dorian's overstepping by being as ostentatiously flirtatious as he is, especially when he has a boyfriend," Cris's jaw clenched.  They wouldn't think that if Irial could admit that his boyfriend was the guy he was 'ostentatiously' flirting with, but Ashton wasn't giving him an opportunity to put a word in.  "Thirdly, this is the real world where homophobia is still commonplace and accepted in many of the countries that this band has only just begun to touch.  You can't alienate those audiences right now, and even in the US and UK, how many people do you think want their children to listen and obsess over someone gay.  Is it fair?  No, but that's the way it is.  Even if people didn't care that their child listens to a gay boybander, there are people who would care when homophobic people showed up to your concerts and events to protest.  That's just the parents too not even the fans; you _saw_ the backlash Raven Symone got for coming out, can you imagine what would happen to _you_ especially since her fans weren't half as invested as yours and have weaned over the years after she left Disney Channel?"   

Cris winced.  The backlash from Raven Symone's fans had been brutal and not altogether inspiring, but Cris wasn't so sure it would be exactly the same with him.  He knew some people would respond that way, but not everyone and not as vehemently, especially since he thought people tended to be a lot more homophobic to lesbians than to gays, which might just be an opinion but was one he felt confident in.   

"You don't want a beard?  Fine," Ashton said dismissively.  "No one would believe it anyway.  Just like no one believed Harry Styles and Taylor Swift or him and Kendall Jenner."  Cris swallowed hard, hands wringing together.  His reputation was so potent even his sister tended to believe the stories; Cris had to call her and let her know when he was _actually_ dating someone (a rare enough occurrence) and when they were PR dates that the media picked up and blew out of proportion (like him and Penney, which had, thankfully, resolved itself).  "But coming out is not an option.  Your fans aren't ready for it.  The _world_ isn't ready for it."   

"And when _will_ they be ready?  Twenty years from now when Irial decides he deserved better than a closeted boybander whose called a slag by every media outlet on the planet and linked to every girl he talks to on a given night?"  Cris demanded and continued, "I could just do it."   

Ashton got up and cocked his head at Cris, "Can you?  You should really read your contracts better."   

Cris gaped after him.  What the hell was _that_ supposed to mean?   

"Be ready to go out after the release party.  We got Chloe Masters's management to agree to an outing," with a cold parting smile, Ashton departed from the building leaving Cris seething.  
       

* * *

"Has Irial seen them?"  Were the first words out of Rosie's mouth when she got to the studio, having seen the pictures front and center on tabloid during her morning shift at Starbucks.   

Harry barely had a moment to look before the door to the studio opened and slammed shut with a force that had to have been human generated.  They both winced, sharing at pained look while Harry dropped his voice to whisper, "I think it's safe to say he has."   

"We're on in five.  We have all the songs in order, yeah?"  Irial demanded, voice flat.   

Rosie and Harry locked gazes, a pair of subtle raised eyebrows and minuscule head movement the only things that passed between them but still enough.  Nodding, Rosie rolled back her shoulder and met Irial's gaze, "Yes, right, but about 'Snow' do you want me to keep that in the lineup or...?"   

Irial didn't even blink, having always been depressingly good at hiding his emotions behind a hundred foot, bulletproof, bomb-proof, nuke-proof titanium wall imbedded with 600 volt electrical current and armed guards.  He waved his hand dismissively, turning and stomping into the studio, "Who the fuck cares?  Good music is good music.  Whatever."   

The studio door slammed shut, and they both winced, peering through the window to see Irial sitting in his chair, headphones already on, glaring at his phone as he flipped through something with a scary amount of intensity.  Rosie looked over at Harry who sighed and ran a hand through his hair, inclining his head, and they both shifted automatically out of the window's  view.   

"I mean _Chloe Masters_?  Some sixteen-year-old Disney princess prat over _Irial_ , I mean, _really_?"  Rosie exploded.   

Harry shook his head and sighed, "I'm hoping it's a PR stunt."   

"It better be, or he won't have to worry about screwing anymore pretty blondes because I'll cut off his dick and feed it to him through a straw.  This is _Irial_.  He's sassy and sexy, even if he doesn't see it, and fun and sarcastically humorous to the point where you have to try not to like him.  He's just so damn _likable_.  He also has trust and abandonment issues the size of fucking Russia.  It took signing a lease with him so that I contractually couldn't run out on him before he actually relaxed enough to let me love him, but he let that selfish ingrate into his life without a second thought.  God help me, if he screws Irial...if he _screwed_ Irial—"   

"I don't think Irial will ever recover from that," Harry said gravely, shaking his head.   

Rosie eyed her best friend carefully before shaking her head, "You're such a good person Harold.  That's not what I was gonna say."   

"I know what you were going to say, but someone has to try and pick up the pieces while you cut off his fingers, toes, and various other extremities before tying him to an anchor and dropping him into the Mariana Trench," Harry shrugged.   

"He would be so lucky.  Death by a Thousand Cuts is coming his way if he does that to Irial.  Not even God could save him from me."   

Her tone left little room to doubt that she wasn't 100% serious about that, and Harry just didn't have the heart to reprimand her for saying it.  Irial might walk around like he was untouchable and couldn't be hurt, but they both knew that he would crumble if either of them betrayed him, never mind what would happen if Cris really sunk so low as to publicly have a fling with Chloe Masters, some superficial Disney starlet who couldn't act for shit and sung happy-go-lucky shallow songs about teenage romance.   

A knock on the studio door caused both of them to startle, sharing a look of hesitance and surprise.  Harry nodded at Rosie who ducked her head and pulled up her head, turning to sort out the last minute checks at the boards while Harry opened the door as he was the only one whose name was actually connected to the show.  People loved the anonymity of Dorian, so even though people knew what studio they operated from, everyone had respected the privacy of Dorian.  Harry, though, had been the one to put his names on all the official paperwork at the university, which meant a fair few people who'd gone digging for information had asked Harry to just give them a hint.  He'd told them to read Dorian's Twitter.   

Standing on the opposite side of the door was a man in his mid to late forties, in a suit and ties, hair slicked back and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched on the end of his nose.  He didn't look the least bit surprised to see Harry standing there, regarding him curiously, "Harold Benton-Sterling?"   

Harry didn't even sigh, "Yes?  And you are?"   

"I'm Robert Conway."   

"One minute to show time," Rosie said, abandoning her attempt at anonymity when she realized that Robert didn't attend Middlesex.   

"I've got to—" Harry pointed a thumb back at the booth.   

Robert nodded, "Right, can I sit in?"   

Hesitating, Harry looked to Rosie who opened the door and yelled to Irial, pausing and nodding before looking back at Robert, "He wants to know why."   

"I work for BBC Radio 1.  I'm here to talk to him about what his plans are after graduation."   

Harry and Rosie balked, and Rosie closed the door firmly, nodding at Robert, "Come in then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Raven Symone's coming out was really shocking, the responses anyway, a bunch of people freaked out and said that her coming out ruined their childhood, which chill the fuck out, it's been like 10 years, get over yourself. Doing Tumblr threads on AO3 is going to be a bit more challenging than on my computer...ok, I'm determined. The Mariana Trench is the deepest point on Earth's surface...and I love the first two Transformers so it had to be used in violent death threats because that's where the Decepticons were...laid to rest. And it's highly unlikely that the end of this chapter would ever happen but...this is fiction so whatever.


	17. "I Don't Love You Too" Olly Murs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosie has Harold deal with this bullshit, and Cris realizes he kind of fucked up.

**Cris Emerson talks 'bromance' and takes out Disney starlet**  
Since returning to the UK, Cris Emerson, 18 year old member of boyband Breaking Fourth, has been chock full of rumors of a clandestine romance that has him commuting between Hendon and Central London.  On his best friend's campus radio show, which a sick Cris crashed three weeks ago, he admitted to the trips being to visit said show's anonymous host, Dorian.  During the band's iHeart Radio Album Release Party, Emerson was asked why so much secrecy to which he replied "[Dorian's] really private and wants to stay that way.  I have a lot of love and respect for him and have no problem doing what I can to keep him out of the press."  While many fans believe that the 'b' in this bromance is silent, Cris Emerson's recent late night partying with Disney star, Chloe Masters, proves otherwise especially when he followed up with a lunch date where the pair looked very friendly indeed.  Sorry Crispian shippers, looks like Cris Emerson is still very flirty and very straight.  
  
 **Test message from Cris to Iri**  
 **Cris** : I tried to call you earlier...  
 **Cris** : Don't hit the people with complicated orders.  
 **Cris** : Good luck on the show today...not that you need it  
 **Cris** : LA is too sunny who ever thought I'd miss clouds and rain :(  
 **Cris** : Why does no one here eat anything but salad?  
 **Cris** : Heading home soon on the red-eye  
 **Cris** : Can I come to your flat?  
 **Cris** : I realize you're ignoring me I just...  
 **Cris** : Can you just tell me what I did?  
 **Cris** : I really miss you  
 **Cris** : Can I come home? Please.  
  
 **Savannah the Swiftie (@savvyswiftie)**  
Does @breakingfourth coming back to London mean no more Chloe #YesPlease #Homecoming #Chlispin #MakeItStop  
  
 **RT by @HaroldBSterling**  
 **Karalynn B4 (@kara_789)**  
Did anyone hear @DorianII yesterday when that girl asked what he thought about Cris and Chloe? For his sanity no more Chloe #Crispian #Chlispin #MakeItStop #dorianspeaks #DorianII  
  
 **Cris from Christmas (@120Lilian)**  
Finally @Cris_Emerson dates someone decent. Stick with my baby girl @MasterChloe! #Chlispin #CrisEmerson #ChloeMasters  
  
 **Breaker4Life (@Tina_B4xx)**  
Stop with the Crispian shit. @Cris_Emerson said its nothing. And it clearly bothers @DorianII #Chlispin #Crispian #ChloeMasters #CrisEmerson #DorianII

* * *

"Irial's ignoring me," Cris admitted after taking a deep breath when Breaking Fourth clambered into the back of the car.   

For a moment, the other three boys all remained silent before Micah hedged, "You're sure?  It's not just the time difference?"   

"He hasn't answered my calls or texts and hasn't sent me any weird pictures or said shit to me on Twitter," Cris pouted, though the shaky tenor of his voice alerted everyone just how close he was to tears.  Everyone looked startled.  "I don't..." Cris took a deep breath, "What did I do?"   

"Did you ask him?"  Micah inquired carefully.   

Cris swallowed and blinked back tears, "Um...yeah, but he's been radio silent to me since right before iHeart Radio."   

Despite being so focused on keeping his cool, Cris didn't fail to notice the looks of alarm that passed between the three boys.  Cris felt his heart sink lower, even they thought that _Irial_ not sending him even a random picture of some weird thing he saw on the street was serious.  Dominic frowned at Cris, asking carefully, "Did you ask Rosie?  Or Harry?"   

Sniffling at little, Cris shook his head, "I don't actually have their numbers."   

"I do," Dominic said gently, and Cris nodded, pulling out his phone and copying both numbers into his contacts, too miserable to bother being surprised that his bandmates had exchanged information with his boyfriend's flatmates...maybe his boyfriend.  A fresh wave of tears welled at that thought, suddenly he found it hard to breathe and swallow; with shaking hands, he typed out a message to Rosie, figuring that she was probably the best person to ask.

**Cris** : Hi. It's Cris. Do you know why Iri's ignoring me?   

Everyone in the car sat in tense silence, not even blinking when the trunk finally slammed close and the driver hopped into his seat, starting the car.  Cris's hands clenched around his phone, eyes never leaving it as he waited tensely.  When it buzzed, the whole car collectively seemed to hold its breath.

**Rosie** : Eat shit and die asshole D:<   

Cris blinked, taken aback not by her vehemence or straightforwardness since the shock value of how blunt Rosie Ireland was had worn off the more he'd spent time at their flat.  Though the moment he'd finally let go of his shock about the words that came out of her mouth was almost exclusively when she'd stalked into Irial's room at ass o'clock in the morning, completely unconcerned that both Irial and Crispin were naked and wrapped around each other under a thin sheet, bitching about them and their 'anal sex tendencies' taking place in the kitchen when other people lived there and they couldn't properly clean up their bodily fluids and didn't Crispin have a kitchen in a flat where he lived alone for them "to sodomize on completely inappropriate community places like kitchen counters and walls and couches...not that I want to give you two bunnies anymore idea but for fuck's sake."  Still, she'd never been so outright **mean** to him.   

His phone buzzed again.

**Rosie** : Talk to Harold. He's willing to listen to your shit at 630 am   

_What had he done?_

He copied the text and sent it to Harry, hands shaking too violently to do much of anything else.  His phone rang a moment later, and Cris answered almost immediately, desperate for some insight into what the fuck happened in the three _days_ he'd been in Los Angeles.   

"Cris?"  Harry said, tone too bland and too careful for Cris to consider him an ally in whatever this was.   

"Harry?  What the hell is going on?"   

Harry sighed, "What the hell happened with Chloe Masters, and don't say nothing because we all saw those pictures, Cris.  I want to trust you, I really do, but those pictures are pretty damning.  Grinding and necking—"   

"'Talking' with their faces plastered together and Chloe looking like the cat that got the fucking cream, that whore," Cris heard Rosie fume in the distance.   

"That," Harry accepted.   

Cris froze, blood chilling, "Has he seen those?"   

"I don't think there's a primate with the bare minimum of intelligence who has access to internet or television who hasn't seen those.  What the hell are you doing Cris?"  The words weren't accusatory but a sigh of disappointment, which was even worse from Harry than his cold apathy had been.   

"Can I come over?"  Cris demanded.   

"What?  _Now_?"  Harry said startled when he heard Cris rattle off Irial's address to the driver who looked annoyed at the sudden detour but dutifully typed the address into his GPS.  It hadn't really been a question; Cris knew Irial well enough to know that anything other than an immediate acknowledgment _in person_ along with a plausible explanation meant that Irial would transition into avoidance to avoid both confrontation and possible humiliation.  Harry attempted, "I don't think that's the best idea."   

"Like he'll talk to me any other way?"  Cris demanded.   

Harry acquiesced when Rosie said, "He has a point.  But tell him to get his ass over here sooner rather than later.  The longer Irial stews on this, the harder it'll be to get him to accept his explanation and apology."   

"Ask Rosie if ten minutes is soon enough?"

* * *

Harry opened the door already dressed for the day and eyeing Cris like he wasn't he was worth the air he was breathing.  It was uncomfortable and unexpected from someone usually so reasonable and even-tempered, but Cris figured it made sense.  As hard and detached as Irial tried to pretend he was, the people closest to him tended to be overprotective as he, well, _wasn't_.  Irial was damaged and fragile.   

"It was a PR thing," Cris blurted.  "I was drunk.  We took the shots.  We went out the next day to satisfy my management.  That was it."   

"You didn't tell him," Harry pointed out, and Cris flushed.  Harry shook his head, "You didn't think it was probably smart to pick up the phone and tell your insecure boyfriend that you were going on a couple of PR stints with one of the most well-liked and attractive young Disney stars since Selena Gomez?"   

Cris shifted uncomfortably; it hadn't crossed his mind since Irial generally just laughed it off when the articles in London talked about whatever girl he was linked to...but then those usually only had coincidences and fabricated sources.  At most they had pictures of him talking to them or walking with them; Chloe had definitely been different, his management amping up the action fed to the press in retaliation for his newfound relationship with Irial that the fans had picked up on.  _Fuck_...he _had_ screwed up... _big time_.   

"You're a moron," Rosie said, appearing behind Harry who nodded, lips pressed together tightly.  "Harold and I will leave you to your groveling, best of luck."  On that note, she shoved Harry passed Cris and out the door, managing to swat Cris in the head as she followed him, leaving Cris to Irial's wrath.   

Cris moved into the flat, closing the door behind him, and stripping off his sweatshirt so nervous and amped up that his exhaustion and jet-lag barely even registering.  He dropped his sweatshirt on the back of the couch, leaving his suitcase next to the door, oddly uncomfortable in a space that he'd never once felt like an outsider in, including when he'd basically invited himself over for moo shu pork the day he found Irial.   

"Harry!"  Irial called from down the hall, and Cris's breath caught as he turned towards the sound, freezing as Irial appeared from the hallway in only a pair of baggy sweatpants that Cris had left behind from one of his frequent sleepovers, lovebites still littering the pale skin on his soft tummy from the last time they'd seen each other.  He hadn't noticed Cris yet, head bowed as he pulled a beanie over his messy hair, "Did you get a chance to buy eggs yet because I promised my professor a bribe if she—" Irial stopped abruptly as his eyes found Cris.   

Cris blinked at him, struggling for something to say while also noting how wrecked Irial looked, pale and wan, though that was probably because of the dark circles under his eyes contrasting with his skin.  Irial spoke before Cris could, "Cris."   

He flinched as Irial walked into the kitchen after the passive-aggressive brush off, "Iri."  Irial froze, chest heaving as he pulled in a deep, ragged breath, though he wouldn't look at Cris.  "I'm sorry.  It wasn't...it was a PR date just like always."  Irial still didn't say anything, and Cris swallowed, pleading, "Management sprung it on me right before we went on iHeart Radio.  I just...I mean, you seriously think I'd leave _you_ for some sixteen year old blonde who lives five thousand miles away and isn't even allowed to be publicly seen cussing let alone being sarcastic."   

Anxiously but needing to touch Irial, Cris crossed the room, standing directly behind Irial, leaving a painful amount of distance between them and resting his head on Irial's shoulder, hands griping his hips tightly like he was afraid Irial would disappear.  It seemed a legitimate fear at this point.  Cris hadn't had such a hard time with their separation when they'd been in constant contact like always despite the time difference, but Irial's contact cut off had hurt Cris a lot more than even Cris had realized.  Irial seemed to deflate under the touch, softening automatically.   

" _That_ wasn't the same.  Having pictures and videos of some Britney wannabe basically giving you a lap dance while putting her mouth where it doesn't belong is not the same as exaggerated reports of you snogging women you had a ten word conversation with at a bar.  You don't think that was important to mention when I called you at _two in the morning_ to wish you luck at the album release party?  You don't think I deserved to have a heads up instead of being blindsided by seeing that shit trending on Twitter _and_ Tumblr?"   

"I didn't think...didn't _realize_ how seriously different it was until Harry looked at me like an impudent child."   

Irial huffed out a breathy laugh, the last of the tension leaving his body, and Cris took advantage, pressing their bodies together and wrapping his arms around Irial's waist, pressing a kiss into Irial's neck.  It took a moment but Irial relaxed into the touch, resting one hand over Cris's, the other reaching up to knit into Cris's hair, "'Impudent', already starting with that vocabulary lesson this morning."   

Cris didn't smile, didn't laugh, instead he pressed a kiss under Irial's ear, whispering into his ear, "I'm sorry that I didn't tell you, and I'm sorry you had to find out like that.  I'm sorry that you ever thought that you weren't important enough to me for me to cheat on you or not tell you something that would hurt you or that I'd leave you with some censored twelve year old California girl who can't act and thought that sticking her tongue in my ear was sexy."   

Turning his head, Cris took the hint, kissing Irial long and deep, breathing him in and pressing them in, reassuring and reaffirming that they were together and they were okay.  They rested their foreheads together, and Irial met Cris's eyes, serious when he said, "Don't do that to me again, Crispin."   

Cris shook his head and kissed Irial again, savoring the feel of Irial being in his arms and on speaking terms with him again, "If it makes you feel any better, she made me take her to a vegan restaurant on our PR date.  No meat.  No cheese.  No eggs.  Just veggies and soy products.  I always get stuck with the vegans."   

Irial smiled, pulling Cris into another kiss before murmuring, "It does.  Suffer."   

Sighing, Cris turned Irial around to face him, framing his face with his hands before admitting, "I _did_."  Irial studied him silently before nodding slowly, wrapping his arms around Cris's waist and burying his head into his chest.   

"You smell like airport," Irial said after a minute.   

Laughing, Cris nodded, biting Irial's shoulder gently, "I did come straight from there."   

"No wonder you look about ready to keel over dead on my floor," Irial said, pulling away from Cris and frowning at him.  "Go to bed...no  shower...no, bed, definitely bed," Irial ordered, pointing to his bedroom.   

Cris huffed but just pecked Irial on the lips before complying with his orders, moving for his suitcase but ended up trailing Irial down the hall when he swatted Cris's hands away.  Irial deposited the bag in the corner of the room, and Cris stripped down to his boxers, fading as he undressed until he collapsed in bed.  Irial smiled at Cris over his shoulders, unadulterated affection that Irial was usually stingy about displaying written all over his face along with relief and contentedness that Cris had seen glimpses of in passing but never so fully, outwardly display.   

"You're abandoning me?" Cris asked when Irial stripped out of Cris's sweatpants, digging around in his drawer for a pair of clean boxers, and Cris ogled at his boyfriend's firm fantastic ass, bare and on display, for a moment before pointing to the laundry basket sitting by the door, "Harry left your laundry for you."   

Giving Cris a patient look, Irial grabbed a pair out of the basket, pulling them on before walking back to the closet and saying over his shoulder, "Not all of us are international popstars who get days off to lounge around in bed."   

"I'm sleeping off jet-lag," Cris pouted, and Irial leered at Cris over his shoulder, tongue poking out of his mouth.  Cris stuck his tongue out at Irial before asking shyly, "You'll come back when you're done."   

"It _is_ my flat," Irial said, pulling on a pair of split leg starred and striped skinny jeans that Cris thought he _had_ to have stolen from Rosie when she grew out of them.  Cris just raised his eyebrows at Irial who sighed, walking over and leaning down to kiss Cris who took advantage quickly, hands reaching up and holding Irial still, tongue dancing over Irial's lip until Irial acquiesced, mouth opening and moaning as their tongues tangled together.  They got lost in the kiss, lips and tongue, breaths mingling, but they had to come up for breath, and Irial grinned down at Cris, shaking his head.  He pecked Cris's lips before stepping away from him and looking at him like a dangerous animal, which whatever, it wasn't Cris's fault he'd missed Irial so much.  "Lucky for you, popstar, Easter Break officially starts today, but I have my last show before the break, double morning shift at Starbucks, and a meeting with my project advisor so I'll be home around 2:30 maybe 3:00."   

Cris didn't like that idea at all, but he sighed and nodded before remembering something he'd seen on Harry's Twitter, "What happened on the show yesterday?  I heard you went off on some girl."   

"I didn't go _off_ on her," Irial defended, pulling on a ridiculously faded U2 concert t-shirt that Cris thought might be his.  "I just might have been a little too abrupt, but why would I want to be happy about you getting involved with some preppy little Disney star even if this was some alternate universe where I wasn't totally gone for you."  Cris's breath caught a little, a small smile spreading across his face; Irial hadn't even seemed to notice his slip-up, "But, yesterday, did you know my show is the most listened to college radio show in the EU?  Was up there even before I met you, which, bravo to me."   

Humming thoughtfully, already half-asleep, Cris watched Irial pulled on a grey and black flannel button up, leaving it open as he adjusted the beanie atop his head.   

"Well,  it's so popular that Radio 1 came down to talk to me about me hosting a show geared towards my already existing college audience after I graduate.  _BBC Radio 1_ , what even is my life?"  Irial beamed at Cris who blinked and sat up abruptly, gaping at Irial who pulled on a leather jacket, picking up his Sperrys and plopping on the bed beside Cris to pull them on completely in cloud 9.   

Cris started smiling, turning Irial's head so that he could kiss him, saying smugly, "I'd say 'congrats I didn't see that coming', but I did.  You're fantastic."  Irial blushed and buried his head in the crook of Cris's neck while Cris laughed, looking down at him, "So, I suppose that means you're not going to be a trophy wife."   

"No, I'm going to be a hilarious, sarcastic, and mildly inappropriate gay radio talk show host on BBC Radio 1 with a token popstar friend."   

"You're going to be Nick Grimshaw?" Cris teased, and Irial made a noise of protesting, shoving Cris's shoulder.   

"God no, why do I talk to you?"   

Leaning in to give Irial another kiss, Cris paused just before pressing their lips together, whispering, "Because you're 'gone for me'."   

Irial groaned dramatically but wound a hand in Cris's hair and accepted the deep, congratulatory, breathtaking kiss without any resistance.  Cris considered that a win.


	18. "R U Mine" Arctic Monkeys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irial's birthday gets crashed an extra-large dose of knife-wielding crazy.

**Micah Cross and girlfriend caught snogging in stadiums**  
Member of boyband sensation, Breaking Fourth, Micah Cross, has been taking advantage of his down time to rekindle romance with girlfriend and model, Jocelyn Penderghast.  In between interviews, shoots, and performances, the pair have been inseparable.  Only just recently the pair attended an Arsenal vs. Southhampton football match to cheer on their respective teams but ended up spending most of the match snogging.  "They're so in love," a source says.  A match attendee who sat near the couple says, "They could hardly keep their hands off each other the whole match."  We're smelling wedding bells on the horizon...one can only hope.  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
Exams next week but my boyfriend just woke me up with a birthday blowjob, make me breakfast, and cuddled with me while watching Les Mis :)  
  
 **Irish Rose (@rosieposie)**  
Happy bday to my bestie and personal headache @DorianII #LetsGetWasted #YoureSoOld #USLegalDrinkingAge  
  
 **Dominic Kinsey (@Nic_Kinsey)**  
@DorianII turns 21 today ^.^ #IveGotTheGoodStuff #YoureAncient  
  
 **Benji Irving (@BenjiDIrving)**  
Despite being the biggest pain in the ass...love you mate. Happy birthday @DorianII  
  
 **Micah Cross (@MC_Cross)**  
Wait till @DorianII sees his bday cake ;) #HappyBirthday  
  
 **Harry Benton-Sterling (@HaroldBSterling)**  
@DorianII is annoying little shit to work with but I wouldn't have it any other way. Happy 21st  
  
 **Emma Cross (@EmmaCross)**  
@MC_Cross is d2m. You know @DorianII and didn't invite me to his bday party :((((((((((((  
  
 **Soren Reid (@sorensoars)**  
Happy 21st and much love to @DorianII  
  
To: wildchile@gmail.com.uk; irialdorian@gmail.com.uk  
From: robertconway@bbcradio1.com.uk  
Subject: Dorian Speaks  
Irial,  
Since we last spoke, the station has received your transcript, resume, and spoken with your references.  We've requested your final grades and diploma, but I'm pleased to say that we're happy with what we'e seen and the job is yours.  We are, however, curious if you'd though anymore on our proposal and have been looking into choosing someone as a co-host.  Let us know what or who you decide on.  
Robert J. Conway  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
21 years ago today my best mate @Dorian II was born. I can't imagine life without you. Happy birthday elf :)

* * *

The day that Irial Mackenzie Dorian Greyson met Cheryl Taylor Atterberry was the day that forever changed his professional destiny.   

He knew _of_ her because him and Crispin had had a long conversation about PR relationships and his management that had ended with him saying last thing he wanted to become was Micah.  Irial had balked and asked why in the hell a straight newly 22 year old needed a beard, and, in response, Crispin had pulled out his phone and shown Irial a photo of Micah at a party, his arms wrapped around a voluptuous, blue-haired Romanichal girl, both of them smiling broadly at the camera.  Crispin had said only two words: "Cheryl Atterberry", which came down to a spitfire, streetfighter, unable to hold down a job, been arrested numerous times for ridiculous and unsavory reasons that made Irial look downright angelic to management by comparison.   

At least _Irial_ had never been hauled into local jail for streaking, breathalyzer determining him to be three times over the legal limit.   

Whatever, he'd forgotten all about Micah's unexpected bombshell of a girlfriend until...well..he couldn't.   

Irial's birthday was on April 26, two weeks after the end of Easter vacation, most of which he'd spent fucking or being fucked so hard that either him or Cris couldn't walk the next day or sprawled across the floor of his flat fielding classified ads, looking for jobs for both Rosie and Harry while trying not to think about his own dilemma of finding a co-host he could bounce jokes off of, understood discretion, and could also challenge him and his witticisms..so another Rosie since the actual Rosie had given him a bland look before declaring, "I'm a _writer_ if I wanted to be all up in the spotlight then I would have applied to work for SNL."   

Well there you go.   

His birthday was the last day before the university became completely overwhelmed in final exams and board assessments so it was quite literally his last day of freedom before stress overcame him and turned him into a quivering nervous wreck.  On the plus side, he'd had two parties, one on the Saturday before his birthday thrown by his football team at a local club that Cris had snuck into once majority of the room (Irial included) was too drunk to remember their own names let alone his.  That, of course, had led to some very bad decisions on both of their parts: some very sexually charged grinding (someone had gotten a very blurry picture of that, which had spread like wildfire through Tumblr, Cris was obvious but Irial's face was very thankfully hidden from view), a drunken makeout in the bathroom that had led to Irial dropping to his knees to suck Cris off (they'd had the good sense to do that in a bathroom stall but Cris had had the very kinky sense of mind to take a picture of Irial, eyes glazed with lust, with his mouth wrapped around Cris's dick, looking up at him like he wanted to devour him...okay), and catching a cab to so that they could end the night with Irial fucking Cris into the mattress (which very nearly happened in the alley behind the club, thankfully neither of them had had lube handy).   

Breaking Fourth and company had hijacked his _actual_ birthday, having a much quieter celebration at Cris's god awful flat after Cris and Irial had spent the morning cuddling and making out on Irial's couch while watching Les Miserables for about the hundredth time.  Harry and Rosie had baled to set up at Cris's and probably to avoid seeing Cris bend Irial over the couch...which Irial would neither confirm or deny having had happened.   

Rosie clapped excitedly while Dominic grinned, putting a paper cone birthday hat on Irial's head, "You're legal drinking age!"   

Irial rolled his eyes while everyone laughed, " _Americans_.  But does that mean I can have the booze now?"   

Dominic smirked and nodded, reaching across the table and handing Irial a bottle of Scotch with a bow slapped on it, "There you go.  Happy birthday, mate, from me to you."   

"See," Irial held up the bottle, "now _this_ is a good present."   

"Rosie and I wrote you a _song_ ," Soren said with mock outrage.   

"Two minutes ago on a paper napkin," Penney Dear pointed out, tossing an M&M into her mouth and grinning when Soren shot her a sour look.  Her bare feet had been thrown over Benji's lap, and he smiled at her warmly; she met his gaze and winked.  Benji had asked Irial if he could bring Penney to the party to introduce her to him, Harry, and Rosie as he apparently had every intention of carrying on with her long term.  She was darling, even more so now that Irial knew she wasn't dating his boyfriend.   

"And what did you bring then?"  Rosie retorted while Soren raised his eyebrows in wordless agreement.   

Penney smirked, "Myself."   

"That's not a _present_.  That's _unfortunate_ ," Benji shrugged, and Penney tossed one of her M&Ms at his head.   

"Cake!"  Irial exclaimed, scowling over at Crispin when the flash of his camera went off.   

"Not just any cake," Micah put the cake down on the table with a delighted smile, "I found you Black Forest cheesecake cookie cake shaped like..wait for it," Micah said, hand over the box, grinning up at Irial who eyed him suspiciously.  He pulled back the cover with a flourish to reveal the Les Miserables Broadway logo.   

"Micah is my new favorite person!"  Irial declared, getting to his feet and snapping a picture of it and posting it to Instagram and Twitter immediately because...omg he had a Les Miserables birthday cake what even.

**Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
@MC_Cross is a beautiful person who got me a LES MISERABLES cake XD   

Crispin pouted, and Irial laughed, pecking his boyfriend on the lips and whispering, "I know it was your idea, love.  Micah isn't _that_ intuitive."   

"Oi!" Micah argued, but Crispin just smirked, sticking his tongue out at Micah. 

**Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
...that my fantastic boyfriend came up with. I'm such a lucky boy  <3   

"It's so _ugly_ ," Rosie declared.   

"Shut it you!" Irial yelled jokingly, pointing a threatening finger at her, but she only rolled her eyes and waved him off, smiling.   

"I can't believe you actually put twenty-one candles on it," Harry shook his head at Micah who simply shrugged sheepishly.   

"It's gonna be covered in a layer of wax before we even cut into it," Crispin said patiently, and Penney pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes down at the cake.   

Irial sighed, "Thanks.  Way to make me feel young."   

"I'm dating an older man," Crispin grinned over at Irial, winking, "that's hot."   

"You make it sound like I'm robbing the cradle, Crispin," Irial remarked, and Crispin just gave him a one-shouldered shrug, eyes sparkling with mirth.  Irial rolled his eyes, knocking their arms together and standing on his tiptoes to press a kiss to Crispin's neck, nipping at it with his teeth, grinning when Crispin's breath caught.   

"None of that!"  Soren decreed, and Irial flipped him off while Crispin rolled his eyes.   

"Knife...I need a knife!"  Micah cried dramatically, looking around frantically, hands in the air.   

"Calm down, mate," Dominic rolled his eyes.   

Irial shook his head and raised his hands, "I volunteer as tribute!  But seriously, I'll grab one since I need coke to go with my birthday Scotch."   

"I should have brought rum," Dominic said sadly.   

"Get me a cup!"  Rosie called out.   

"And me!"  Benji and Micah said at the same time before looking at each other, "Jinx."   

"Me too?" Crispin gave Irial a puppy dog look, and Irial sighed and rolled his eyes, pecking Crispin's lips before nodding.   

"Fine, I'll just bring the whole thing," everyone cheered while Irial headed inside, ducking into Crispin's gross burgundy kitchen and taking the 2 Liter bottle out of the fridge, putting it on the counter, and rifling through the cabinets until he found where Crispin had hidden the plastic cups.  He scooped all of those into his arms and picked up the knife Micah had left on the counter, heading back out to the terrace when he heard a knock on the door, frantic, harried pounding; he paused, looking between the terrace and the door before sighing and hurrying to the front door, arms full.   

He hefted it open and stared at the familiar girl on the other side of the door with narrowed eyes.  Irial honestly couldn't place where he'd seen her before, chubby cheeks, clefted chin, thick blonde locks with the ends dyed blue.  She blinked at him, face determined and a little bit angry...not good.   

"Hi?"   

"I'm Cheryl Atterberry."   

"Um...okay," Irial stared at her blankly.   

"Where's Micah?"  Cheryl demanded, glancing down at the knife in Irial's hand before saying, "You always answer the door with a steak knife in your hand?"   

"You always so demanding?"  Irial retorted.   

Cheryl cocked her head and looked at him patiently, "Micah Cross?  Now.  Immediately.  And can I borrow that knife?  I need to cut off his balls."   

"You're his crazy girlfriend," Irial finally realized, stepping back and turning to go out to the terrace, letting Cheryl follow as he said, "Can you not castrate him right this second.  It's my birthday."   

"If you found our your boyfriend spent _your_ birthday snogging his fake girlfriend what would you do if someone asked you that question?"   

Irial nodded, "He's out on the terrace."   

"Thanks," Cheryl said, stalking passed Irial and to the terrace, shouldering Crispin out of her way as he came inside.   

Crispin balked at her before turning to Irial, "I was coming to see if you needed help..." Crispin took the coke and cups from him before frowning to Cheryl, "Was that Cheryl Atterberry?"   

"MICAH CROSS!"   

"Yes, yes it was," Irial said genially, sharing a thoughtful look with Crispin a moment before they both hurried out onto the terrace.   

"You no good cheating scum of the earth, you are!"  She screamed at a shocked, sheepish Micah, holding up the glossy magazine page that showed Micah and Jocelyn, lips pressed against each other.  Crispin sat down on a chair beside Harry, pulling Irial onto his lap as everyone watched her verbal tongue lashing silently, passing pretzels and potato chips between them.  "'There's nothing going on with her,' you said.  'Nothing's going to happen,' you promised.  'You're never going see shit like us making out in the papers!'  _That's_ what you told me Micah Christian Cross.  Do you remember that?  Right before I agreed to push back my _wedding_ indefinitely to become your dirty little boyband secret!  Do you remember any of this?  Is any of this getting through your tiny little pea brain?"  Irial turned his head into Crispin's neck to stifle his guffaw of laughter; Cheryl just kept going, "The day of this match was _my motherfucking birthday_ and you spent it breaking every promise you ever made to me and putting your lying traitorous lips on that bleached blonde, size zero toad's powderpuff pink glossy-lipped covergirl's!"   

Irial and Crispin were both shaking with silent laughter,  Soren gaped, not quite sure what to say about that while Harry just watched them through narrowed eyes and Rosie snickered into Harry's shoulder.  Penney had the bowl of M&Ms on her lap, watching them like they were the best movie she'd seen in a long time, and Benji and Dominic were crying silent tears from how hard they were laughing.   

"Do you have _anything_ to say for yourself you sycophantic, misogynistic little weasel?"  Cheryl demanded, reaching down and picking up the knife Irial had left on the table.  Crispin laughed harder while Harry made a choked sound.  Irial got to his feet, walking over to the pair of them.   

Irial looked between the two and saying to Cheryl, "You know, you're quite mental."   

Cheryl grinned, revealing a dimple, "Thanks."   

"That wasn't actually a compliment," Irial frowned.   

"My probation officer says that I need to try and see the silver lining in what people say about me as opposed to just outright punching them in the face.  It's a hell of lot less fun, but I do get to see people make the greatest facial expressions."   

"I'm not a misogynist," Micah argued.  Cheryl raised her eyebrows, pointing the knife at him.  Irial looked between them, gaping before looking to everyone for help.  Soren and Harry were looking like they'd never seen anything more disturbingly confusing.  Rosie had her chin rested on her fist, watching them like a science experiment.  Penney had her head cocked, studying them with a quizzical expression on her face though not as much interest as Rosie or as much discomfort as Soren and Harry.  Apparently the rest of Breaking Fourth was used to this.  Dominic and Benji were unbothered, cracking open Irial's scotch and trying to spike the whole 2 liter bottle up until Rosie smacked them both in the head, glaring.  Crispin fiddled with his phone but looked up when he felt Irial's gaze on him and smiled, shrugging.   

Micah continued, "And it was a stage kiss because Joce thinks you're too much of a psycho to risk sticking her tongue down my throat to sell our relationship to the public."  Cheryl hummed thoughtfully, unimpressed, and Irial just shrugged.  Jocelyn might have a point, Cheryl looked like the type to just straight up cut a bitch with zero feeling and a contented smile.  Micah shook his head, "And it's not like I'd have been able to come down to Bristol for your birthday, Cherrie what with all the crazy back forth we've been doing around Europe and America to do promotions for the upcoming stadium tour.  There was no time."   

Cheryl sighed and let Irial take the knife from her hand.  Crispin sat up and took it, cutting the cake and handing a plate to Irial who turned to Cheryl, "Cake?"

* * *

"That might actually be the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Cheryl scoffed, leaning her head back on Micah's shoulder.  They'd calmed down, and he wrapped his arm around his girlfriend, pulling her into his side and burying his face in her hair.   

"Shut up, it is not," Irial commented from where he'd curled up on Crispin's lap, accepting the forkful of cake Crispin offered him as he planted a kiss on Irial's hairline.  

After cake and spiked soda, everything had wound down.  Penney, having found a whole bunch of Magic: the Gathering cards that Irial didn't even want to know why Crispin had, had challenged to Dominic to a game that had been going on for a good forty minutes now with one of them occasionally cursing.  Benji sat beside his girlfriend nursing straight Scotch and chatting with Harry about internships and what it was like majoring in public relations and journalism.  Soren and Rosie had shifted gears, Soren on guitar, trying to actualize whatever song Rosie had visualized in the her head, which wasn't the best music since it was always starting, stopping, and restarting, Crispin or Micah occasionally tossing in their lyrical two cents but whatever.   

Cheryl scoffed, "Hanky-panky, stanky manky, stick your dick wherever it wants to go and totally get away with it because like 'I'm so famous', yeah stupid."   

"And we think it's better to be a close-legged, big-headed nun that doesn't know what an orgasm is?  Besides do you really think Justin Bieber's the best example of that?  He's a bit extreme isn't he?  Slutty, bad-tempered, big-headed, wannabe gangster like bitch you're a white boy from Canada, he's like the picture of an egotistical rockstar.  Wouldn't the Jonas Brothers be the better example?"   

"Anyone from Disney channel is skewed.  They were 20 year olds playing babies on television and singing about being attracted to pizza girls while proudly displaying purity rings—"   

"While one of them screwed Demi Lovato—"   

"Who was a junkie—"   

"And then there was—"   

"Miley Cyrus!"  Cheryl shook her head, "My God if that girl kept her legs closed while dating Nick Jonas, I didn't go to jail three times for drunken disorderly."   

"I feel like that's not something you should share with people."   

"Just like you shouldn't share that you wanked to your boyfriend performing on the X-Factor a few weeks ago?"   

"Yeah, actually, kind of like that."   

"I was going somewhere with this," Cheryl pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes thoughtfully.   

"Can't wait to hear this," Irial mused, settling more firmly against Crispin while Cheryl flipped him off, still thinking, and Irial laughed.  He didn't need to think, cutting her off by asking, "You ever considered working broadcast radio?"  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear, Cheryl's not slightly crazy, mildly violent, or a jailbird because she's a gyspy...she's all of those things because I needed her to be for purposes. Also, I have nothing against Demi Lovato, I actually really like her and admire her for getting over her drug problem and eating disorder without first doing anything too out of left field crazy, which is a disclaimer that should be really unnecessary but I don't know people get touchy about those kinds of things.


	19. "For Baltimore" All Time Low

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cris tries to be unselfish. Irial has another rant confessions. And Cris's sister might as well straight out ask 'are you a gold-digger'?

**Breaking Fourth Xfm radio interview**  
 **Interviewer** : Only a couple days before you boys head out on your first stadium tour who with again?  
 **Dominic** : Kimberly Lakshmi—  
 **Cris** : Who gets to perform in sweatpants.  I'm so jealous.  
 **Micah** : And Azadi.  
 **Interviewer** : The Persian group that got famous covering you lot, One Direction, and Union J on Youtube from their dorm, yeah?  
 **Boys** : Yeah.  
 **Interviewer** : Who are you most excited to be working with?  
 **Micah** : You'd think Kimberly because she's just so fantastic, but I'm personally really stoked for Azadi.  
 **Benji** : Yeah, yeah.  They're really unique, especially in sound.  Gonna be massive one day.  
 **Interviewer** : Well you'll have plenty of time to get to know them.  What's it?  Four continents in four months?  
 **Cris** : No.  Three continents, right?  South America, North America, obviously Europe.  We're not going to Australia.  
 **Dominic** : Or Asia.  
 **Micah** : Definitely not Antarctica.  
 **Cris** : Europe, Asia, Australia, North America, South America...three there, two there, on down.  That's six.  What am I missing?  There's _seven_.  
 **Benji** : Oh God, he's trying to do geography _and_ maths.  
 **Cris** : Africa!  I'd forgotten Africa.  Whew.  Sorry.  
  
 **Emma Cross (@EmmaCross)**  
Saying goodbye to my bro @MC_Cross 2nite. Won't see him for another 4 months D':  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
What to do without my best mate for 4 months?  #ThinkHappyThoughts #BuyAPuppy #RoadTrip...no seriously  
  
 **Text message from Cris to Iri**  
 **Cris** : You ready for tonight?  
 **Iri** : The fact that you're asking makes me nervous. What did you do?  
 **Cris** : Nothing elf  
 **Iri** : How pissed am I gonna be?  
 **Iri** : Actually never mind, don't tell me  
 **Iri** : If it's THAT serious I'm withholding phone/Skype sex  
 **Cris** : O.O  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
Ok...now I'm REALLY nervous about tonight...

* * *

"You're acting shifty.  Why are you acting so shifty?  Crispin," Irial grabbed Cris's arm, spinning him around to face Irial, eyebrows raised and arms crossed over his chest, already expecting the worst and possibly a fight, which _dammit_ , Cris really should have thought this through.   

Cris took a deep breath and looked down at his boyfriend...his gorgeous, suspicious, already worked up boyfriend.  Cris _really_ should have thought this through.  Iri was going to kill him.  Irial was going to cut him up into bite size pieces and feed those pieces through a blender and then run that through a disposal because Cris was a moron and Irial hated being taken by surprise...and meeting family members...and having his privacy violated...and Cris was about to do all those things, but he'd just really wanted to be with Irial as much as he could physically and emotionally and breathing the same air with him because for the next four months all he'd have was the internet and that really just wasn't enough.  And Cris couldn't bail on this without Dominic, Benji, and Micah killing him because most of _them_ had people that they'd rather spend their last hours at home naked in bed with and reassuring them with every kiss and touch that they were together and a few months on the road wouldn't change that.  This is what Cris got for selfishly trying to be unselfish.   

Irial crossed his arms over his chest and raised his eyebrows at Cris who sighed, "Iri..."   

"Crispin," Irial said with forced patience.  "Don't.  What did you do?"   

"I...so my sister might be here?"   

"Are you fucking with me?  You'd better be fucking with me Crispin.  We _talked_ about this.  We talked about the relative idea of taking it slow, which usually applies to sex but fuck that shit, because I really _need_ sex and I _really_ need to have sex with _you_. That meant me not moving in with you when you asked me after you got back from LA and we were practically living in each other's pockets anyway."   

Cris frowned, "I thought _that_ was because Chelsea was too far away from campus and you were too co-dependent to leave Harry and Rosie?  Oh...and you hate my kitchen and furniture."   

Irial went on as if he hadn't heard him, "And it meant not getting joint custody of a living breathing creature because that's like the ultimate sign that someday I want to indulge you in raising crying, pooping, homo sapien saplings with you."  Cris blinked at him, shocked, even as a small smile started to split across his face, "That meant not getting some sappy, subtle couples tattoo with you _every_ time you saw some design you liked in the window of a random Chinese restaurant.  That meant not asking if you wanted to come to my graduation or even if you could because I got you a ticket like the first day they went out.  That meant me biting my tongue every time you cried during _Up_ or accidentally got frosting on your nose when you were eating a cupcake or make that stupid sad puppy dog face every time you think I'm going to snap at you for whatever dumbass shit you'd done this time to keep from like writing sonnets that would make fucking Shakespeare jealous about how much I love your fucking face and body and personality and just like everything about you because you're just too damn lovable for _anyone_ to be able to resist let alone me.  And that _definitely_ meant not meeting your family."   

"I love you too," Cris beamed at Irial, breathing a little unsteady and heart thumping erratically in his chest.  His hands settled on Irial's waist because he _needed_ to touch him.  And Irial sighed and rolled his eyes, wrapping his arms around Cris's waist and shaking his head.   

"That's what you got from my spiel?"   

"And fuck going slow.  We're not good at it anyway."   

"Is this some ploy to get me to meet your sister?"   

"Iri," Cris said, cupping Irial's face in his hands and meeting his eyes, "she'll love you.  _Everyone_ loves you.  Sometimes it takes a minute to get over your delivery, but you're absolutely the greatest person I've met in my life, definitely the most honest at any rate.  Ari's following you on Twitter so it's not like she hasn't already experienced at least a little of your straightforwardness."   

Irial groaned and pressed his forehead against Cris's, " _That's_ not exactly comforting."   

" _And_ she'd probably just track you down anyway because she _really_ wants to meet you."   

Sighing in defeat, Irial let Cris pull him into a slow, sweet kiss before murmuring against his lips, "Anymore surprises?"   

Cris hesitated, "If you mean anymore of _my_ family?  No."   

"Crispin..." Irial began warningly, glaring at Cris.   

"It's just a small get-together going away party of people we know."  Cris tried, but Irial's eyes narrowed dangerously, not quite buying the line, "And maybe family members who are in town to say goodbye."   

Irial closed his eyes like he was in pain and nodded before asking far too calmly, "Tell me Emma Cross and Morgan McCallum aren't here."   

"Would she know you if—?" Cris hedged sheepishly.   

"Yes," Irial snapped, eyes flashing angrily, "I _tutored_ her in her first year journo class."   

"I'll talk to her before she even sees you!"  Irial didn't look convinced, and Cris pressed a kiss to his forehead, cheek, and jaw before pressing into his personal space and whispering, "Please, Iri, I can't bail on this, and it's the last time I'm going to be able to see you in person and touch you and hold you for _four months_.  I know you're not happy about this, and I know I sprung it on you, but can you please just—" he didn't know how to finish that, but Irial knew him well enough to get it, kissing his collarbone before biting the skin sharply in retaliation.   

"Find her."   

Cris beamed.

* * *

Emma Cross had taken it pretty well all things considered, though she had totally fangirled when she realized that the hypothetical 'what would you say if I said I could introduce you to Dorian on the condition that you don't tell anyone who he is' was actually literal and 'holy shit Iri what are you...wait do you two...fuck my journalism tutor is _Dorian Grey II_?'  She was also, apparently, a Crispian shipper whose eyes glinted gleefully when she'd managed to work out in a matter of seconds that they snogged and shagged and had in fact just that morning tattooed each other in a series of dark and rather interestingly placed lovebites...only some of which were actually displayed.   

Whatever, dealing with Emma Cross trying not to squeal and hyperventilate and giving her tacit permission to post on Twitter that she'd met Dorian...

**Emma Cross (@EmmaCross)**  
OMFG @Cris_Emerson introduced me to @DorianII #ICanDieHappy

...something she may actually have done when she broke a wine glass and squealed when her phone kindly informed her fifteen minutes later that he'd followed her back, was nothing compared to meeting Ariella Emerson.   

Irial had seen Ariella once before when she'd stolen Cris's phone because he hadn't been paying close enough attention and had sent a picture of herself hanging upside down and pulling a face for the camera captioned "Hey Cris's Boyfriend".  He'd also seen several pap shots of her and Cris together when Soren had thought it would be hysterical to introduce Irial to how crazy Cris's life was by showing him the article about Cris and Ariella dating...yeah, no.  It was easy to see why they'd make that assumption though.   

Ariella was beautiful, like a paler, punker version Selena Gomez with a 'come at me' attitude and studded knee-high boots to die for.  She stood by the snack table absently munching on pretzels when she noticed Cris headed her way, a nervous Irial tucked behind his body to hide.  Dropping her snack, a wide smile split across her face a moment before she was leaping for her brother who caught her easily in his arms, hugging her and laughing.   

"I think you're getting too big for that," Cris huffed when he finally set her on her feet.   

"Never," Ariella responded dismissively before turning her shrewd gaze on Irial, "And you must be Irial Dorian.  He's attractive at least, I'll give him that.  And so, so gay, you know those split leg pants are for _girls_."   

Cris winced and glanced sheepishly at Irial who simply pursed his lips at Ariella, "When I want fashion advice from punk edit Selena who got Avril Lavigne's 90s style puke all over her, I'll ask for it.  Thanks."   

Ariella narrowed her eyes at him and said to Cris, "Dear brother, be a good boy and go get your boyfriend and I a seat at the table."   

"Ari..." Cris said carefully, hesitantly, clearly reluctant to leave the pair of them alone together.   

Irial sighed and looked over at Cris, "It's fine, love, your sister and I are just going to have a nice chat.  Gay to girl and all that."  Cris still looked unsure, and Irial rolled his eyes, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him in for a kiss, it was short but hard, leaving them both breathing a little unsteady.  "Go, princess, I'm not going to run away, I promise."   

Cris hesitated, glancing between Ariella and Irial before sighing; he grabbed Irial's chin in his hand and left him with one last kiss before to turning to Ariella and pointing a warning finger at her, "Behave."  

Ariella rolled her eyes and offered him a sour expression as he kissed Irial's temple before wandering over to the table.  She turned to Irial with a studious expression, "So _you're_ my brother's boyfriend."   

"So _you're_ your brother's girlfriend," Irial said in the same tone, smiling genially and raising his eyebrows at her.   

She made a disgusted noise, "God, he _showed_ you that."   

"Soren did."   

"Ooh," Ariella clucked her tongue at him, "met Soren have you?"  Irial shrugged and Ariela popped another pretzel in her mouth, eyes narrowed on Irial, "My brother's in love with you, but I worry about him with whoever he dates—not that there's been _many_ , mind you, but a few and they've never turned out well."   

Irial shrugged, "Beatrice Learner is a twat who really had no intention of putting her all into it because she was too busy trying to be a rockstar on another continent.  Georgia Tottin was a right bitch who didn't actually seem to have any interest besides his body.  Izzy DiLaurentes actually wasn't all that bad, but she had no interest getting hate from fans who thought they were going to marry him and didn't handle it well.  And from what I garnered things with Henry were never serious anyway."  Ariella looked impressed, but they'd talked about his hookups before they'd started dating minus Henry.  _That_ conversation had been Cris explaining that he was not going to use Irial as an experiment; he'd been there, done that.   

"When did you start dating?"   

Sighing internally, Irial squared his shoulders and answered Ariella's questions; he understood, really, his own sisters' _and_ his brother's would-be suitors would be getting the same interrogation from him.   

"December 19...or March 5th I think, depending.  Crispin's _really_ thick."   

"When and where did you meet?"   

"September 28th in the alley behind Club Deccord."   

Ariella raised her eyebrows, "Who asked who out?  Or did you just start shagging and the rest came later?"   

"These questions are getting a little too personal.  And he basically asked himself out on a date with me, because I was determined not to date him."  Irial smiled at Ariella, "We didn't shag until December."   

Reluctantly, Ariella looked impressed, "What's the biggest thing he's ever bought you?"   

_And they were onto the 'are you a gold-digger' questions._

"Tickets to see Les Miserables at the Queen's Theatre, which I _know_ he secretly liked."   

"What's the _last_ thing he bought you?"   

Irial looked heavenward for help, "The Room.  Dear God that app is addicting.  I should have known better than to let him have my Apple ID.  He downloads all sorts of shit onto my electronics now.  But _nothing_ is as bad as Bubble Birds 3."   

Utterly unimpressed, Ariella continued her assault, "What's the biggest thing you bought him?"   

"That weird Lotus hand tattoo...and probably the purple ribbon I suppose.  I shouldn't encourage, really, I think he's starting to use tattoos to rebel against his management."   

"What's the last thing you bought him?"   

"I bought _us_ this to-die-for mezza luna pizza and chocolate sorbet, all of which I will be finishing," Irial said smugly, sticking out his tongue playfully when Cris shot a worried look in their direction.   

"You tell him you loved him yet?"  Ariella pushed.   

Irial grimaced, "Yeah, like twenty minutes ago when I was ranting about going slow and not meeting family just outside the door.  We seem to make most of our heartfelt confessions that normal people just _say_ during rants or long-winded apologies.  Bit weird, really, but it seems to be working for us."  Ariella gave him a disbelieving look, and Irial nodded, "No really."   

Slowly, she shook her head, "You two are shit at going slow.  He says he's basically moved in with you and your two flatmates.  Why not the other way around?"   

"I don't fancy an hour long train ride to school.  I would terribly miss my flatmates.  And his flat is cavernous and cold and has an awful burgundy kitchen."   

"So you _don't_ plan on living with him after graduation?"   

That brought Irial up short; he hated Cris's flat _absolutely_ but he wouldn't mind living with him.  Actually, he quite fancied the idea of shacking up with his boyfriend so they could see each other every day, and it's not like they didn't live in each other's pockets anyway.  Irial shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable, "He hasn't asked."   

"This won't be _easy_ , you know?  The media, the press, you won't be able to stay anonymous for long."   

"He told you about that?"   

"Who doesn't listen to your show?"  Ariella gaped at him before holding up a hand and shaking her head, "Clueless, really.  But the world isn't a nice place for gays."   

"I've been out for a long time.  I'm not concerned about what a few religious nutjobs and vanilla enforcers have to say to me about where I choose to stick my dick."   

"His fans aren't always nice to people they think are with him."   

"Most of them like me," Irial shrugged.  "And fuck the ones that don't.  I run a college radio show and play footie with rainbow cleats.  I can deal with hate."   

"Gay boyband members _don't_ come out," Ariella finally said.  "Not until they're retired.  They go on PR dates with pretty women and have beards and publicly, _vehemently_ deny your relationship _over and over_ again."   

Swallowing the lump that had risen in his throat, Irial nodded, sighed, looked up at the ceiling.  He felt eyes on him and glanced over to see Cris looking at him worriedly, ready to get up and come to him, but Irial shook his head hastily, turning back to Ariella, "It's not something I haven't thought of.  And I'm not saying it's going to be easy, and I'm not even saying we're going to make it, but I _know_ we won't if we never even try.  And Cris deserves better than someone who's only going to stick around if everything's going right, and I love too much to give him up just because the world isn't fair and our relationship won't be easy.  If relationships were supposed to be easy, then fifty percent of marriages wouldn't fail."   

Ariella's lips curled up into a smile, which was all the warning Irial got before she'd hurled himself into his arms.  Irial blinked, frozen for a moment before slowly, gingerly wrapping his arms around her, patting her back and shooting Cris a desperate look.  But that ass just smirked and turned back to having a conversation with Penney Dear.   

"I knew you were a good one," Ariella declared smugly when she stepped back before whirling on her heel and marching to the table.   

After taking a moment to learn how to breath again, Irial followed her, sitting down on Cris's other side and slumping heavily into his boyfriend's side when he threw an arm around Irial's shoulders.  He didn't have to look to know that Cris had shot him a look of alarm.  He rested his forehead against Irial's temple and whispered, "Everything okay?"   

Irial's eyes darted to Ariella who gave him a wide, innocent smile and waved her fingers at him.  Penney and Benji across the the table looked between the three of them, amused, and Irial sighed and shook his head, "Your sister has a future as a medieval torturer and you're about to go away for four months."   

Cris ran a hand through the baby hairs at the nape of Irial's neck smiling when he shivered, "Come somewhere with me after this?"   

"If it's anywhere other than a bed," Irial began, stifling a gasp when Cris dropped his other hand on Irial's thigh way too close to his crotch, squeezing it slightly and tilting his head with a guiltless expression on his face, "then I'm going to kill you, you tease."   

Cris smiled at him pleadingly.   

Irial was so whipped.  He sighed, "What did you have in mind?"   

A smirk spread across Cris's face, and Irial grimaced, _Well that was never good._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The continents thing might seem really random...but that was me when I was planning this chapter. It's either Africa or Australia that always gets forgotten. Sigh.


	20. "To The Sky" Owl City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irial has a big surprise amid all the depressive states of Twitter mind...and Dominic is a bit of a jinx.

**Irish Rose (@rosieposie)**  
I got a job doing freelance editing...then got hired to help write @sorensoars next album :D  
  
 **Harry Benton-Sterling (@HaroldBSterling)**  
The management co. I interned for hired me. Next stop: apartment hunting  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
2 wks till graduation...bf withdrawal...big surprise on #dorianspeaks today ;)  
  
 **Breaking Fourth get cozy on 'Far and Away' tour**  
Two months into Breaking Fourth's four month 'Far and Away' stadium tour and it seems they've already begun cozying up with their other acts...but we're not talking movie nights, FIFA tournaments, and pranks, though we've heard there's been plenty of _that_ too.  Speculation has abounded about what Dominic Kinsey would get up to when he admitted during an interview in Paris only two weeks into tour that he returned Kimberly Lakshmi's celebrity crush on him. Seems though rumors seem to be coming true having been spotted walking along the Seine, shopping in Madrid, sightseeing in Brazil, and, finally, lip-locking on a beach in Mexico between shows.  Also, despite recent controversial gossip of having an affair with best friend and bandmate, Shahnaz Attar, Azadi singer, Alina Rosen, has been spotted more often than not getting cozy with Cris Emerson, laying to rest any infidelity rumors when the two singers were spotted holding hands both while touring Sao Paolo, Brazil and while shopping in Mexico City.  Looks like all our boys are taken for now.  How long do we think _that's_ going to last?  
  
 **Tumblr Post: alwaysforcorian**  
I think I'm going to cry. Only ten months since this ship set sail, and Dorian's graduating from Middlesex.  What am I going to do without his snark on Dorian Speaks?  At least we've still got his Twitter, which awww he misses his boyfriend (*cough* Cris *cough*)  But what's this announcement?  Crispian? Please, I beg you.  #Crispian #Corian #CrispianComeOut #DontMakeMeSuffer  
  
 **Irish Rose (@rosieposie)**  
Starting to pack shit for our move...apparently @DorianII left his toys in the closet when he came out and forgot about them when he started to get some on the regular  
  
 **Cherrie Taylor (@Cherrie_TA)**  
How the fuck do you even use this shit?????  
  
 **Cherrie Taylor (@Cherrie_TA)**  
Oh...like that.  Im embarrassed now  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
@Cherrie_TA you should be #judging

* * *

Six o'clock in the morning, Cris concluded, was far too early to up even when in possession of frozen waffles, an obscene amount of whipped cream, and a microwave...and some very shitty coffee that Micah would sip, then scowl at, then sip again.  Dominic, smart man that he was, had simply opted to sneak out of the hotel for real coffee and ended up spending twenty minutes signing autographs at McDonalds...he'd gotten Benji and Cris coffee though.  Still, Irial had insisted Cris listen to this show, and his boys—bless them—were not about to leave him alone at the crack of dawn, with jet-lag when they had a show that day, and he'd been subjected to another PR date with Alina just the evening before, which is not to say she wasn't great but neither of them could muster much enthusiasm for being there.   

"So, is it true?" Cris asked conversationally when Irial picked up the phone and immediately went into a rant about international bills that would be disgusting.  He didn't mean it, though, so Cris ignored his bitching, which was really just Irial's way of saying hello when he knew and liked you.   

"Yes, Crispin," Irial said in a lazy, sarcastic drawl that had Cris grinning just from hearing it, "the Earth _is_ round.  The sun _does_ still rise in the east and set in the west.  And somehow we did _in fact_ lose the Revolutionary war to those bloody Yankees.  Could you be anymore vague, love?"   

Cris smiled coyly despite knowing Irial couldn't see him, and he leaned back against the bed's headboard and threw his legs over Dominic—who'd sprawled across the bottom of the bed—ignoring Benji was already fiddling with the computer, "Is it true that you have a whole box of sex toys stashed in the hall closet?"   

"...um...maybe?"  Cris snickered while Micah, tucked under the covers beside Cris poked him in the cheek, "Look, princess, I'm not exactly 'vanilla'.  I think being gay sails that ship...period, but yeah, I've got a healthy sex life," Irial paused while Cris pursed his lips thoughtfully at that before Irial backtracked, realizing what he'd implied.  " _Had_ until you decided to go off and be a rockstar.  They've gotten a lot more use recently.  Figured you'd appreciate that more than...other things."   

Cris cocked his head and frowned, "I'm not sure I appreciate _either_ ," though he certainly appreciated the mental imagery that it provided, "but at least a vibrator isn't going to steal you away from me."   

Irial scoffed, "I'm offended you don't think I have a battery operated boyfriend that's up for the job."   

Considering how seriously Irial took his sex life, Cris had no doubt his vibrator was probably top-of-the-line, unbelievable shit you'd seen in pornos.  Another thought occurred to Cris, and he smirked, voice dropping, "Do I ever get to see them?"   

"You want to?"  Irial sounded surprised but also already turned on, his voice dropping and its usual rasp growing more pronounced, "You want me to stick a plug into your hole and put a ring on your cock, handcuff you to the bed so that I can suck lovebites into your neck, kiss down you chest and trace your abs with my tongue and teeth and lips.  Rim you until you can't speak, can't _breathe_ with how worked over and strung out you are," Cris choked, palming his suddenly erect cock through the thin flannel of his pajama bottoms, swallowing and ducking his head, ignoring the raised eyebrows that Micah shot him.  Irial continued, "I'll fuck your mouth and cum down your throat, then suck you off with three fingers fucking your ass, make you scream so loud that you can't speak."   

"Fuck, Iri," Cris exhaled his breath and a ragged huff, pressing against his rising cock, desperate for friction.  Dominic pinched his thigh to stop him, which only made his dick harden more between the sound of Irial's breathy laugh in his ear and the pinprick of pain not being entirely unfamiliar.  Voice husky, Cris suggested, "That sounds...yeah.  Or you could fuck me with your vibrator while riding me."   

Irial choked on a surprised laugh, "Thought about this _a lot_ have you, bad boy?"   

"A fair bit," Cris admitted.   

"How averse are you to floggers?"   

"I'll try anything once."   

"Fuck," Irial drew out the word, sounding wrecked and breathless.   

"Oi!" Cris heard a familiar feminine voice chirp over the line, "Is that an _erection_?"   

"Fuck, you're getting me hard in studio," Irial ground out.   

Cris snorted, "Yeah, you got me hard in a bed with three other boys."   

"Three other boys?  In the middle of an orgy?"   

"I don't think my boyfriend would like that."   

"Depends on hot they were and if he was invited," Irial mused, and Cris barked out a laugh.  Irial sighed, "I miss you."   

A sad but wide grin stretched across Cris's face, "Two weeks, elf, and then you can have me any way you want me."   

Irial huffed out a laugh, voice growing even raspier, "My graduation present?"   

"Should I be worried?" Cris teased.  It was only half a joke; if he'd been anymore experienced, anymore set in his sexual preferences, he might have been.  But Cris had dated four people and only one a guy; he'd never been in a relationship long enough or settled enough (in terms of actual physical location) to actually reach a level of comfort and limits in bed.  All of his sex had been good and pleasurable and only ever with women who hadn't pushed him out of his comfort zones the way Irial did, because Irial was experienced and fairly kinky and extremely adventurous, and Cris hadn't been joking, he'd try anything once, especially with Irial who always managed to make his toes curl and his orgasm explosive even if the actual position or act hadn't been Cris's cup of tea.   

"Tell your boyfriend that he'll never see you again if you don't get off that fucking phone right the fuck now!" Rosie yelled.   

A woman laughed nearby, "She sounds serious, mate.  And you're on in like thirty seconds."   

Irial sighed, "I love you.  My slavedriver awaits."   

"Have a good show, babe," Cris said, ignoring the bereft feeling that ending conversations with Irial always left him with.  It was made a little better when Benji sat cross-legged in the center of the bed between all three boys, resting his laptop on a pillow, volume turned all the way up.   

The last bars of 'Take Me Home' by Midnight Red faded, and there was barely a moment of silence before Irial began, raspy voice, slightly tinny, drifting out from the speakers and filling the room.  It enveloped in Cris an echo of feeling at home, comfortable but also acutely aware that home was London, home was that quiet McDonalds where the patrons had grown so used to seeing him and Irial they hardly paid them any mind, home was weekends with Ariella and riding out in Dartmoor with his grandparents...well... _Irial_.   

" _Hello my darlings, I'm Dorian Grey II and this is Dorian Speaks.  Here I am, speaking, and um...according to my graduation countdown clock we seniors have T-minus sixteen days until we are thrust from the bosom of the UK schooling system and into a world of bills and politics and an irregular sex life and dependency upon sobriety...well for_ some _of you.  I intend to hold to my Peter Pan Syndrome as long as I can._ "   

The burst of laugh, loud and feminine, that Cris had heard before over the line came across the radio, " _It's called gerontophobia, genius._ "   

" _Oi!  Quiet you!  It's not time for you yet.  Alright, let's get to this...quick reminder if you're new: if you've got a questions or comment, then ask away on hashtag dorianspeaks, all one word, and please if you're a Middlesex third year about to graduate like_ moi _then write down a memory or a shout-out or gossip, I do love some gossip, on hashtag graduationcountdown...also lowercase, also one word, no I won't spell it because you're_ graduating _so you should know how to spell.  Obviously I can't answer every question and some I won't because...yeah...but I will answer this one: I, in fact, tend to bottom, love to switch.  Power bottom for sure though, which my boyfriend has kindly acknowledged by getting me a 'Power Bottom' t-shirt for my birthday because he pretends he's not a kinky little shit but does, in fact, enjoy speaking innuendo about our rather overactive sex life._ "   

" _Over sharing again!_ "  The female called out again, and Cris frowned, wondering why he'd heard that voice, glancing over at Micah to find him frowning, mouth half open.   

Irial made an annoyed sound, " _Clearly, someone needs to be the center of attention._ "   

" _This from a guy named 'Dorian' and named his show 'Dorian Speaks'._ "   

" _Any.  Way.  I've been hearing rumors..._ "   

" _The ones about you shacking up with a popstar?_ "   

"That's _going around?  People_ think _that?_ "   

" _People also think you're bottoming._ "   

" _I just said I was a power bottom not two seconds again!  And I'm certainly not 'shacking up' with a popstar.  Who would feed me?_ "  Irial exclaimed, and Cris frowned while his friends laughed.  He'd considered the idea of 'shacking up' with Irial, which he'd yet to bring up...but probably should since Cris's lease was up ridiculously soon, and he'd yet to make a decision on what he wanted to do or where he wanted to do...mostly because he wanted to it all with Irial.  He wanted to wake up with him and share a closet with him and argue over all the inorganic crap that he liked to buy, and he knew that Irial hated his apartment and was already looking with Rosie and Harry to move to central London with them anyway.  He should probably ask before the lease ran out and Irial had already signed one with Rosie and Harry.   

" _Now, for all of those who are wondering: this outrageous bitch who's just all caught up on the social media rumors is Cherrie Taylor—_ "   

" _Fuck you very much, Dorian!  I can properly introduce myself_!"  Cherrie yelled.   

Dorian sighed, " _Fine, then, beautiful, please go on and present yourself to my adoring public._ "   

" _Hello Dorian's adoring public, I'm Cherrie Taylor...that's 'ie' not 'y' and nothing weird on Taylor.  And I'm here because...well...Dorian's not half as funny as he thinks he is._ "   

" _My God, this is what happens when I go and let a gypsy into my life!_ "  Micah coughed, and Cris's mouth fell open, finally recognizing the voice as Micah's wayward, spitfire of a gypsy secret girlfriend who'd they all thought had retreated back to Bristol after crashing Irial's birthday, though it seems she'd returned to London and somehow found her way to Irial for whatever reason.  Though, knowing Irial, it was going to be a shocker.  Cheryl burst out in laughter at the comment, and Irial groaned, continuing, " _Back to my announcement, which is directly related to this lovely...sort of a lady...that's if we're going by DNA._ "   

_"Shut up you!  I'm a proper lady!_ "   

Irial snorted while Cris looked from Dominic to Benji who all stifled giggles.  Cris oomphed when Micah slapped his chest in retaliation for the insult towards his girlfriend, which certainly didn't stop Cris from laughing, " _And I'm hooking up with Chris Hemsworth tonight_."   

" _Rosie thinks it's possible with you...you get that gorgeous Canadian arse._ "   

" _He's Australian._ "   

" _That explains why his arse is so beautiful and firm then, doesn't it._ "   

" _True...Australians are fabulous and sexy but Canadian's are vampires._ "   

" _I know!  Have you_ seen _Avril Lavigne!_ "  Cheryl cackled, and Micah sighed, shaking his head while Cris just gave him a smirk.  Cris understood...except Cris had dealt with Irial's radio and Twitter candor long enough that it no longer made him even the slightest bit uncomfortable, even when he'd been in studio running through the questions people were asking—that _Irial_ was throwing at him.  Micah would get over it.   

" _The_ point _Cherrie, dear is that I promised you an announcement, and I have one.  I've been seeing some depressing posts on Twitter and Tumblr.  Let me start with this one to all my baby shippers: no, Cris and I have not broken up our bromance because he's on tour.  We're as strong as ever lovelies...though we won't be if he indirect Tweets me anymore lyrics from Black Veil Brides last album...how about_ no _._ "   

Cris snickered while his friends just rolled their eyes; they'd endured him blasting it through the tour bus and blurting out all of Irial's critiques and how _totally incorrect_ they were.  They probably didn't want to rehash it.   

" _Secondly, stop with the Alina Rosen hate,_ " Cris's breathe caught, and Micah froze beside him while Benji gave him a shrewd, studying gaze.  Dominic collapsed back on the bed and exhaled, " _I quite like her._ "   

" _You like her or you like Azadi?_ "   

" _Both!  I'm not a jealous fangirl like you who hates Jocelyn Penderghast with a fiery passion of a thousand volcanoes on Mars in the summer in the middle of the sun while it goes into supernova._ "   

" _I don't hate her_!"  Cris, Dominic, and Benji's scoff echoed Irial's, and Micah grimaced, " _She's_ just _a size zero, dyed blonde bimbo._ "   

" _You're a dyed blonde!_ "   

" _Not for long.  I'm thinking of going red to match my fiery personality._ "   

Irial sighed in feigned exasperation, " _You're a Micah girl then?_ "   

" _Of course!_ "  Cheryl laughed, and Micah groaned, head dropping back against the headboard.  Cris just felt himself breathe a sigh of relief; he'd talked go Irial about his management's PR campaign that centered around him and Alina feeding the rumor mill of two young, successful musicians shacking up on tour together.  Irial hadn't been good with it, but he'd appreciated the heads up and had promised to power through his issues and call Rosie to call Harry to call Cris if he ever got overwhelmed by all the rumors...Cris could live with that.  " _I'm gonna marry him one day...just you wait Dorian,_ " Cheryl said smugly, confident...which she had every reason to be.  The boys laughed while Micah fell back under the covers, burying deep into them.   

Irial barked out a knowing laugh, and Cris could picture him nodding, " _Like I said: not a jealous fangirl.  Besides, I know Crispin will always love me best._ "  The sound of a chair scraping came across the radio a moment before Irial was groaning, _"No more gypsies!  Swearsies._ "  Cheryl just cackled, and Irial continued, " _The posts I was referring to were the RIP Dorian Speaks ones, actually._ "   

" _You didn't tell me that your stupidity was terminal._ "   

_"You're quite abusive, you know that?  I've finally found a woman more abusive than Rosie Posie...and don't pretend it isn't true, you!  Now, you won't have to miss me too much.  I know I'll miss this radio station and Rosie being a total wicked witch from the other side of the glass and my fabulous producer Harry.  Sometimes we have to say goodbye with the old to move on to other things so no, there will be no more listening to me on Middlesex radio...but you can listen to me starting October 5th on BBC Radio 1 starting at three o'clock, which I personally think is almost as good as being an unpaid anonymous college radio host.  Almost._ "   

Dominic choked on air.  Benji gaped at Cris.  And Micah peeked out from under the blankets, wide-eyed.  Cris laughed at Micah and bopped him gently on the nose and mirrored his expression when Micah wrinkled his nose at Cris.  He laughed at his friend and sighed, answering the unspoken question, "He told me when we got back from LA, after the album release."   

"And you _sat on this!_ "  Dominic exclaimed, tossing a piece of waffle at Cris.   

Cris caught it in his mouth and ate it with a smug smile, and Benji cocked his head at Cris, "So he's moving to Central London, then?"   

"He's looking with Rosie and Harry," Cris sighed.   

Micah threw the blanket off his torso and frowned at Cris, " _Really_?  You're seriously going to continue paying rent on a flat you're hardly ever in because you're always with your boyfriend who's moving into the neighborhood with his two best friends who are probably shagging each other when he could just move in with you?"   

"Did you _ask_ him?"  Dominic questioned dubiously.   

"I hardly expect he'd say no," Benji pointed out.   

"What if he does, though?" Cris said in a small voice.   

The boys groaned, and Micah shook his head, "You're such shit.  You haven't asked him.  Buck up and do it before he signs a lease with Rosie and Harry that he can't get out of, which keeps up you two from fucking like rabbits on the kitchen counter."   

"Well," Dominic spoke uncomfortably, "we know what Micah pictures for his future...when Cheryl's capable of getting an actual job somewhere outside of their Romanichal friendly neighborhood in Bristol."   

Cris and Benji dissolved into laughter while Micah gave a smiling Dominic a bland, unappreciative look while Cris continued through laughter, "And he isn't pretending to be shacking up with his straight-boy beard."   

They'd missed some of Irial and Cheryl's witty exchange, tuning back in when Irial blurted, " _I'm trying to talk about_ you _Miss Divalicious Romanichal, and you won't let me get a word in!_ "   

Cheryl sighed tiredly, " _Alright...alright...have it your way then._ "   

" _Some peace and quiet...thank God._ "   

" _Drama queen,_ " Cheryl coughed.  There was a beat of silence before Cheryl clucked her tongue, " _Don't give me the 'my God, woman, you make my life so difficult, how did I actually get stuck with you' look.  Even my boyfriend isn't allowed to look at me like that let alone some flamboyant Scouse homosexual with rainbow shoes and fuzzy zebra handcuffs._ "   

Irial whined, " _Who_ showed _those to you?  And I quite know about your boyfriend.  The first time I met you, you were pulling a knife on him_."   

" _It was all in good fun._ "   

Micah looked shellshocked, and Dominic kicked his leg under the blanket, laughing.   

" _I don't think I want to_ know _about_ your _kinks,_ " Irial drew in a breath, centering himself before continuing.  " _Now, Twitter is buzzing with questions about why Cherrie's here.  Well, I was asked to find some poor unfortunate soul to abuse with my charming witticism, and, instead, I chose bitchiness, gypsy dramatics, and mutual verbal abuse._ "   

" _Fuck you!  I'm an angel!_ "   

Irial scoffed, " _So say hello to my new co-host—_ "   

" _Only sort of because our neighborhood Dorian Grey secretly has Center of Attention Disorder._ "   

" _Ooh!  No big, smart, psychology words, euh?_ "  Cheryl must have flipped him off because Irial dissolved into a peels of wicked laughter while the boys looked between each other all shellshocked, equally as blindsided by this announcement.  Cris vaguely remembered him asking her about working in broadcast radio, but, by then, Cris had been drunk on Irial, nibbling on his neck, half hard with Irial on his lap, and ready to fuck him in front of all their friends because he and Iri had been on top of each other _all night_ and he wanted to be balls deep in his ass not listening to him talk celeb gossip with Cheryl.  Next time, he'll suck it up and pay attention, clearly Irial does his best plotting when Cris is half-drunk in lust.  " _Remember, October 5—first day back at uni—you can hear me and this bitch doing exactly what I've always done on national radio alongside her charming company._ "   

" _Oh thank you,_ " Cheryl commented dryly.   

" _Quite welcome happiness, sunshine, and joy.  We are going to break from tradition though, so send your questions for Cherrie here to hashtag askdorian, and, while you're at it, follow my technology challenged co-host @Cherrie_TA...that's capital C-h-e-double r-i-e underscore capital T, capital A.  Cherrie will suck it up and answer every question you ask—_ "   

" _I have no shame.  Bring it on!_ "   

" _—after the break.  Enjoy Cherrie's favorite song, 'Love Bites' by Halestorm._ "   

There was a tense silence in the room with Micah torn between being excited and sick.  Cris shared a look with Benji, both of them turning to a sheepish Dominic.  Benji slapped his leg, "Look what happens when you talk."   

"Good things?" Dominic suggested.  Cris scoffed, and Micah groaned, pulling the bed sheet up over his head to hide beneath the covers.


	21. "Hundred Dollar Bill" Cold Forty Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cris gets hit with a wrecking ball of familial baggage...and gets interrogated by three different families he doesn't know about his living situation.

**Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@DorianII graduates from uni today #HesABigBoy #congrats #DontTrip #BigLove  
  
 **Irish Rose (@rosieposie)**  
Big day today and @DorianII spilled grape juice on my dress #asshole #doriansucks  
  
 **Harry Benton-Sterling (@HaroldBSterling)**  
Met great people and experienced fantastic things here at Middlesex but time for a new journey and new chapter  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
Uni graduation O.O I already killed @rosieposie's dress #NowImNervous (& my bf is meeting the fam) #HolyFuck #KillMeNow  
  
 **Emma Cross (@EmmaCross)**  
Congrats to 2015 graduates. We'll miss @rosieposie but thank god and massive congrats to @DorianII for landing bbc gig #dorianlives #dorianspeaks #longlive  
  
 **Anabella Moreno (@dreambig_b4x)**  
Congrats @DorianII and yay for bbc radio 1 for loving #dorianspeaks as much as we do  
  
 **Becca Crispianxx (@flowerchild73)**  
Congrats @DorianII on graduating and bbc but @Cris_Emerson isnt here to see his boyfriend graduate :( #CrissyComeHome #dorianlives #crispian  
  
 **Svetlana K (@Breaker_88svet)**  
Aww...@Cris_Emerson needs to come see his elf @DorianII walk at graduation #CrissyComeHome #DoriNeedsHisCrissy #Crispian  
  
 **RT by @LilaLuvsCrispian**  
 **Alispin Shipper (@AzadiLove_Kat)**  
Omfg these #Crispian shippers are deluded. @Cris_Emerson is on tour in N.A. And cant rush home for his bff's graduation #CrispianIsFake #GetOverIt #CrispianShippersAreCrazy  
  
 **Lila D.B. Spiri (@LilaLuvsCrispian)**  
Actually @AzadiLove_Kat paps say @Cris_Emerson flew in yesterday nite. 3 day concert lull & was spotted at tat shop w/ unidentified guy last nite #CrispianIsReal #CrissyCameHome #Crispian  
  
 **Marietta Tayes (@1312maricontrary)**  
So cute! @Cris_Emerson came for his bff #crispian  
  
 **Janelle the Breaker (@1999J_B4)**  
@1312maricontrary he does that all the time too lol #crispian #innuendoes  
  
 **Ship It (@b4bear10x)**  
I smell more matching tats #crispian #crispianisreal #getoverit #thosearesocouplestats  
  
 **Holden I. (@holdtheirish)**  
@rosieposie @DorianII @HaroldBSterling need to catch me up on this #dorianlives #crispian thing

* * *

"Oh my God!"  A girl shrieked, and Cris froze, staring at the girl with the equivalent of shock and horror.  She couldn't be more than thirteen, hair lopped off in a golden blonde pixie cut and gangly, petite figure drowning in sparkly pink dress.  Her cerulean blue eyes blinked at Cris, surprised, "You _are_ sexy."   

_That_ startled him.   

Cris had pissed off his management when he'd split immediately after their last concert in Phoenix, letting them know only then that he'd be taking his three day break between their Phoenix concert and their Salt Lake City one in London so that he could see his boyfriend graduate.  Ashton, for once, had lost his cool screaming about responsibilities and speculation and 'the media shit-storm they'd get because an international popstar spent a three day break in tour flying halfway across the world to see his male friend graduate from University' the entire way to the airport.  Cris was unimpressed and had let him know that the boys were okay with this plan, he'd field through the media when the time came, and Alina—his fake sort of girlfriend—was thrilled she could spend her three day break hanging out with her best friends and bandmates as opposed to going on fake, platonic dates with Cris.   

Ashton hadn't been impressed, but he'd shut up when Cris promised to be discreet.   

Naturally when Irial, Harry, and Rosie had picked him up from the airport at eleven at night only to drive him straight to a sketchy tattoo parlor where him and Irial spent three hours getting their new tattoos done while Rosie and Harry made a food run to McDonalds and regaled them with stories of their university antics to try and ward them through the pain, someone had spotted him and gotten a couple of grainy pics that had sent Ashton on a diatribe.  Whatever, Cris tried, he'd stayed in Irial's mostly packed up flat until just before the graduation ceremony was supposed to start, stayed out of everyone's way and notice up until the very second before everything started when Irial's mother was to meet him.  He'd hardly thought no one would see him, but this kid was a new level of weird.   

"Lord, Cathy," a haughty feminine voice huffed from behind him.  Cris turned to see another girl who looked quite like the first though probably a little older, ash brown hair and a smattering of freckles, "you don't even know if it's _him_."   

"Shut up, Lucy!" Cathy exclaimed, grinning at a very confused Cris, "He's got to be Irial's Crispin."   

Cris balked.  _Oh...Irial's sisters_.   

"He's pretty enough," a younger girl added, appearing in the doorway behind Cathy.   

"I _know_ , Ellie," Cathy nodded, beaming.  "You are his, right?"   

"Um..." Cris began uncertainly.   

"Girls!" A woman called out exasperatedly, collecting the littlest girl in her arms and ushering the other two over to her.  She smiled apologetically at a still awkward Cris, ignoring the little girl tugging on her dress, a younger boy peeking out from behind the folds of her skirt, "What _are_ you all doing?"  The three girls started talking at once, and the woman rolled her eyes and held up a hand to get them to stop, looking over at Cris and smiling gently, "You're Crispin, yeah?  Irial's Crispin."  He ignored the warm feeling that spread through him every time someone referred to him as 'Irial's Crispin'.   

"I go by Cris, usually," Cris introduced himself awkwardly.   

The woman grinned and nodded, "I'm Molly Greyson."   

"Iri's mum?"  Irial didn't often talk about his family.  The girls and his brother he loved, though he always called them by their full names when he did actually bring down his walls in a moment of quiet complacency enough to speak of them at all.  The name 'Molly Greyson' had only been dropped once and his father's name never; Rosie had told him not to take it personally since he'd stormed out of his advisor's office first year when he'd tried to get Irial to open up about his family.   

Molly sighed and looped an arm through Cris's, tugging him into the venue and waving her four kids inside, "Come on then, it's about to start."   

"Mum'll tell you all the family drama while you watch," the second oldest daughter, Catherine (aka Cathy) chirped over her shoulder.  Her brother, a towheaded twelve year old, hit her in the back of the head, ignoring the scowl she aimed at him.   

"My brother is dating _Cris Emerson_...so cool," Lucinda preened and her youngest sister, Eleanor, rolled her eyes and shared a log-suffering look with her brother.   

Cris ducked his head and tugged at the sleeves of his Burberry blazer nervously, letting Molly guide him into the aisle to sit between Irial's brother that he vaguely recalled being named 'Maxwell' but that Irial affectionately referred to as 'Maxie-poo' and Molly herself, her husband on the other side of her.  His arm still ached from the massive koi fish half of the yin and yang tattoo he and Irial gotten yesterday, and Cris could tell people were sneaking looks at him, though no one seemed to have figured out whether they were actually seeing things or if Cris Emerson was, in fact, attending Middlesex University graduation.  Luckily, most people seemed to be adults anyway.  They'd hardly care.   

Molly ran a hand through her hair and sighed, and Cris looked down at her, eyebrows raised while she just looked up at him and smiled, the curve of her lips tinged with a little sadness.  Her husband looked down at her and kissed her temple but didn't speak, allowing her to talk as the ceremony began, "Irial doesn't like to talk about us.  It's not...it's nothing I would _blame_ him for."   

"He loves you," Cris promised her, because, even though Irial rarely spoke about them, he had no doubt that Irial adored his family.   

"I know he does," Molly said softly.  "He just doesn't think he _should_."  Cris frowned, confused, and Molly patted his arm, consolingly, "He doesn't like to talk about it; I don't think he _can_.  If he could and just didn't I wouldn't tell you, because it's not really my place.  But he went to a therapist for three years and never mentioned it once to her.  He was only five when his mother left."   

Cris blinked at her, taken aback, "But I thought...I mean, he calls you 'mum'."   

Molly looked surprised, tears welling in her eyes as he lips curved into a smile, "Well...I...yes.  I married his father, Eric Dorian, when he was six, so all he's ever really known is me.  Eric was a firefighter; he died only eight months after we got married and then it was just Irial and me.  I was young and couldn't really take care of child, didn't really want to be a single mother of someone else's child, to be honest, but I tried."   

"Is that where all that money he never touches comes from?"  Cris asked hesitantly.   

"Yeah, Eric's life insurance.  Irial doesn't want it, never did, told us to take it for Max and the girls, but we gave it to him for uni, though I'm quite aware he's slowly been funneling it away for them."   

"He's great at making investments, that boy," Molly's husband added, shaking his head though his tone and face were affectionate.   

Molly laughed and nodded, patting her husband's arm, "Quite.  Dexter and I got married when Irial was nine, got pregnant not long after, and Irial adored Lucy from the get-go, but he wasn't really sure where he fit into the family, you know, especially once we had Cathy and then Max.  I think he felt a bit out of place, like because he wasn't _really_ ours that he wasn't a part of this family."   

"He is, of course," Dexter looked over, shaking his head.  "I watched him grow up.  Coached his footie team and went to his parent teacher conferences, but Irial doesn't like to feel like he's a bother."   

Cris had noticed that, especially now that he was on tour.  Irial felt uncomfortable like he wasn't really a part of Cris's life now that he was five thousand miles away and wasn't sure what he was allowed to do or how much of Cris's time he could take up.  Quite frankly, if Cris could just spend all his time texting and talking to Irial, he would, but Irial didn't seem so sure and shied away when any of the other boys crashed their Skype conversations like he was taking time out of Cris being around his friends...friends he was _living with_ for at least the next two months.   

"Iri's incredible," Cris told Dexter and Molly.   

The pair shared a quick glance before smiling warmly, "I'm glad you think so."

* * *

Cris hadn't realized just how much of a family unit Rosie, Harry, and Irial were until he'd ended up at their graduation party at Benton Pub, Harry's father's pub, which had been closed to completely accommodate their three families.  They'd also, apparently, spun some transcontinental phone tree so that they could keep up with what was happening, though according to Holden, Rosie's younger brother, they weren't savvy enough to work Twitter, so they didn't know _everything_.   

It was sweet...sort of.  Their interconnected families had lost its appeal when Holden had been the fourth male in the room to interrogate Cris on his intentions, after Irial's stepfather, both Harry's father _and_ stepfather, and Rosie's mother's boyfriend, who was a park ranger in the Grand Canyon...joy.  He'd sent his boyfriend a desperate look for help, only to be rewarded with a snicker and an amused raise of his glass before Irial had turned back to finish having a conversation with Rosie's kind-of-sort-of step-brother, Michael, and Harry's father, Jonathan.   

The teenaged girls had all banded together in a corner, whispering over their phones and eyeing Cris from their corner, Harry's fourteen-year-old half-sister, Violet, and Irial's step-sister, Lucinda, leading the girl gossip session.  Max and Harry's half-brother, Gordon, were both twelve and had pulled out their Ninetendos, settling down into a corner and hastily murdering hoards of monsters.  Most of the adults were drinking and laughing and sharing photos they'd taken during the ceremony with Rosie, Harry, and Irial accepting hugs and pinched cheeks.  Cris had settled into conversation with Holden about whether _Frozen_ was better than _Tangled_ —Cris would hold to his dying breath that it surely was despite knowing Irial would rip his head off for believing that—but Rosie commandeered him from her brother on the way to the bar with an impish smile and a kiss on the sixteen year old's cheek.   

"God, I need a vodka.  _Family_ , man," Rosie lamented.   

Cris laughed, "Think you miss them until they're all here."   

"Right?"   

"Ms. Rosie Ireland!" Molly Greyson called out from where she and her husband stood with their arms around each other at the bar with Harry and Irial and Harry's biological parents, Jonathan and Lindsey.  Rosie groaned, tightening her hold on Cris's arm before forcing a smile and tugging him over along with her.   

"Mommy Molly!"  Rosie exclaimed enthusiastically, genuine fondness on her face if not excitement about being called over for a powwow that looked suspiciously like an interrogation, especially when Rosie's mother, Sophia Duncan, separated from her boyfriend's side to come join them.  "Look, I've even brought you your third son."   

Molly laughed while Irial rolled his eyes, pushing away from the bar stand beside Cris.  Cris relaxed as Irial slipped an arm his waist, holding him tightly to his side and offering him a sip of what looked suspiciously like the whiskey sour he'd sworn up and down he wouldn't be drinking in the presence of his family.  He gave Irial a side-eyed look, and Irial met Cris's gaze, sticking his tongue out and wrinkling his nose; Cris laughed quietly, wrapping his arm around Irial's waist, fingers darting under the all black t-shirt he'd worn for graduation (no fashion sense, Cris swore) and thumb massaging the smooth skin of Irial's hip.   

Rosie kept her arm looped through Cris's, which only helped him relax even in the face of so many parental units staring him in the face.  He'd never done face to face with anyone he'd dated's parents let alone someone he actually cared about continuing to see or someone he'd fucked enthusiastically just the night before after getting two complimentary tattoos that they probably shouldn't be getting only seven months into their relationship.  When Harry joined their group show of unity, linking his and Rosie's hands together while he continued to sip his vodka and cranberry.   

"We were just asking Harry and Iri what you plan on doing as far as housing?"   

"Yeah, since my horrible sister won't come home," Holden chirped, joining the group and ducking underneath Rosie and Harry's hands.   

Rosie snorted and poked her brother's shin with the toe of her shoe, "We've been looking further into Central London, obviously, probably more towards Westminster."   

"Oh yeah?" Lindsey asked, curiously, turning to Harry, "I didn't know you liked Westminster."   

Harry shrugged, "It's a nice neighborhood."   

"Certainly nicer than _Camden_ ," Irial drawled, shooting a glance at Rosie.   

She pursed her lips and shrugged, "I enjoy its punk scene."   

"I'm a flamboyant gay man; I don't," Irial deadpanned, a sour feeling spreading through his stomach at Irial's words.   

Cris knew that Irial had to be looking at flats, had, in fact, been regaled by tales of their experiences looking at apartments all over London.  He was running out of time to convince Irial to move in with him.  He hadn't noticed the awkward silence that had descended until Holden finally began with, "Uhh, so you and Cris aren't—?"   

Sophia glared daggers at her son, and Irial shifted uncomfortably at Cris's side.  He looked down at Irial, swallowing the lump that had risen in his throat, but Irial wouldn't meet his gaze as he shook his head, "Nope.  But someone has to keep these two from killing each other."   

The joke fell flat, and Sophia raised her eyebrows at Irial while Molly looked between them, taking a sip of her drink and forcing a smile, "So, Cris, Iri says you live in Chelsea Harbor."   

"Um..." Cris began, thrown by how frozen and tense Irial had grown, becoming distant without ever moving from Cris's side.  "Sort of?"   

Irial jolted, turning to balk at Cris while Rosie and Harry both turned to look at him, surprised, eyebrows drawn together.   

"Sort of?" Sophia repeated, "How do you 'sort of' live somewhere?"   

Rosie nodded at her mother's words, "I _definitely_ remember you living in Thames Quay."   

Cris ran a hand through his hair, reaching out to steal Irial's whiskey sour and downing what was left of it, grimacing, "I mean, yeah, I did.  I'm moving."   

There was a beat of silence and all the women exchanged looks while Harry sighed and shook his head in time with Holden.  Irial had stiffened, stepping away from Cris and crossing his arms over his chest, "Since when?"   

"I...I mean..."   

"Do you know where you planning on going?"  Irial's step-father interjected, carefully eyeing Irial.   

"Not exactly," Cris hedged carefully.   

"Were you planning on _telling_ me?" Irial snapped, raising his eyebrows, expression closed off and stormy.   

"Yes," Cris promised, "of course I was.  It's not like I'm going to commute from Dartmoor."   

Rosie made a face, and Harry looked pain.  Irial's eyebrows just rose impossibly higher, "Oh?  Wow, that's brilliant."   

"What are you so upset about?"  Cris demanded, taken aback.   

Irial stilled, "Why _wouldn't_ I be?"   

"I was going to—"   

"What, Crispin?  What were you going to do?"  Irial demanded, not even noticing all the cringing from their bystanders.   

"I mean...I was...you hate Chelsea Harbor...and my kitchen..."   

"And your interior decorator?"  Irial scoffed.   

"Yeah, so I was...I mean do you..." Cris trailed off uncomfortably.   

Irial smiled softly at Cris, shaking his head as all the tension bled from his body; he reached up and framed Cris's face with his hands, standing on his tiptoes to press a kiss to Cris's lips that had him relaxing, wrapping his hands around Irial's waist, Irial's sweating drink still in hand, "You're an idiot, princess, really.  How long do you have before your lease is up?"   

Cris smiled sheepishly, "Two weeks?"  Irial huffed and shook his head, an action that looked more fond than exasperated; Cris's smile widened, "So you'll move in with me?"   

"You're such a child, Crispin."   

"You love it, elf."   

Cris bent down to kiss Irial again, completely ignoring the parents all watching them, oblivious to everyone around them until Rosie's voice broke through his reverie by asking, "Does this mean I can stop looking at flats with pretty kitchens?  It was, quite frankly, breaking the bank."   

Cris laughed at Irial and kissed his cheek, "So high maintenance."


	22. "Alone Together" Fall Out Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irial's being a snob and stingy when it comes to buying a flat (Cris isn't having it) and Rosie gets real.

To: deborahhenley33@greaterlondonrealty.com.uk  
Cc: irialdorian@gmail.com.uk  
From: crossesoflead@gmail.com.uk  
Subject: Finding A Flat  
Deb,  
I know you sent me an email months ago about looking for places since I'd chosen not to renew my lease at Chelsea Harbor.  I'm in America on tour as of right now and that won't be possible, but I've acquired a flatmate so he'll be looking, probably with some mates of his.  We're both on a bit of a time limit as far as moving goes, but you know what I need as far as parking and security.  My flatmate's name is Irial Dorian, and his only two requests are proximity to the tube and a kitchen that isn't "bizarrely colored".  You know my budget, don't let him talk you down on price point. It's really no problem.  
Cris Emerson  
  
 **Cris Emerson and Best mate, Dorian, shacking up?**  
Just last week, Cris Emerson spent his three day break in tour flying back to London to see his best mate, Dorian Grey II, a third year student at Middlesex University and a soon-to-be radio dj for BBC Radio 1.  Despite not being able to see his face, Cris and his best friend were pictured from across the room embracing after Dorian received his diploma.  Now rumors are flying around that the popstar who's set to move out of his million dollar pad on Chelsea Harbor just this week is not only moving further into Central London but has also acquired a flatmate in the form of one Dorian who announced via Twitter, "at a loss for a chef in Sept since my new flatmate will still be on tour."  The comment only fueled rumors that the pair are more than just friends and when Emerson was asked about what his mate's boyfriend thought about the pair moving in together, he said, "he's really secure in their relationship and knows Dorian would never betray him.  I've just always wanted a flatmate, and Dorian was looking for one.  It just kind of happened."  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
 Still looking at flats...my eyes are bleeding and my lease is up in 3 days *silent scream*  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
Happy birthday to the greatest man I've ever met, my princess @Cris_Emerson. Miss you and enjoy some moonshine on your 19th  
  
 **Irish Rose (@rosieposie)**  
@Cris_Emerson @DorianII no moonshine! You're in America. You're not legal yet #TwoMoreYears #HappyBirthday  
  
 **Micah Cross (@MC_Cross)**  
No worries @DorianII @rosieposie we've got the age problem covered ;) #partylikearockstar

* * *

"Happy birthday, love, I'm spending you money!"   

"Oh, have you _finally_ found a place then?"  Crispin asked, subdued and utterly unconcerned about Irial's not quite a joke regarding money.   

Irial sighed, puckering his lips as he eyes danced around the interior of the flat before saying petulantly, "No."   

" _Time limit_ ," Crispin chastised, "remember when I said that?"   

"Remember who waited two and half months before asking me to move in and look at flats for us while you were jet-setting around America?"   

"It's hardly _jet-setting_ ," Crispin pouted.  "It's not like I get to do anything except perform."   

"And go out on dates with Alina Rosen," Irial pointed out, running his finger over the pristine marble countertop.  He could live with this kitchen...could live in this flat.   

"That's not _fun_.  It's business."  Laughing, Irial shook his head, leaning back against the counter, eyes raking over the section of the L-shapes open reception room that Irial could see from the kitchen.  The two window/door hybrids, thrown open and the two realtors talking in the blip of a balcony, sneaking glances at Irial every so often.  Crispin continued, "And what happened to the flat you saw today?  Deborah was quite confident in that one."   

Irial sighed with a stricken expression, "It's...well it's proper gorgeous, isn't it?"   

"You like it that much then?" Crispin inquired, amused, "Why are we still debating this, then?"   

"It's massive, _four_ bedrooms."   

"We have quite a lot of friends and quite a lot of family," Crispin said patiently.   

"A whole rooftop terrace."   

"We do enjoy parties and having friends over and being out of doors."   

"This massive reception room."   

"I did just mention get togethers, yeah?"   

"It's £3,250 per week!"  Irial whisper-hissed into the phone, smiling and waving at the two realtors looking in his direction.  Ugh, Irial hated realtors; he'd never used one when he and Rosie had gone looking for flats.   

Crispin chuckled, "Iri, babe, that's _nothing_.  It's what, 150 thousand per year?"   

"169," Irial corrected, sounding strung out even to himself.   

"Right, I made more than that just off record sales alone the first year Breaking Fourth existed.  And you'll be making almost that much your first year on Radio 1.  Does it have parking for my car?"   

"Yes."   

"And security?"   

"It's gated with 24 hour surveillance."   

"And it's close to the tube?"   

"Yes," Irial sighed.   

"And Rosie and Harry?"   

"Yeah," he was ready to concede defeat.   

"And has a kitchen you could live with...even though you don't cook?"   

"It's not about _cooking_.  It's the _principle_.  Who the hell wants to live with an eye-sore kitchen.  It's ghastly!  It's atrocious!  It's a crime against humanity.  All kitchens should be granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, and simple cabinetry, honestly," he snapped defensively.   

Crispin laughed in his ear, "Stop being a twat and sign the papers, yeah?"   

Sighing, Irial looked up at the ceiling, "I suppose we do need a space ridiculously soon."   

"We do."    

"I'm not letting Deborah call the interior decorator, though."   

"Don't."   

Finally conceding, Irial nodded, "Fine.  I suppose it isn't _horrible_."  Which naturally meant that it was fabulous, and Irial was quite happy with it, and, given the way Crispin laughed at him, he knew Irial well enough to know that.

* * *

Rosie collapsed onto a multi-colored, L-shaped sofa like she was exhausted, and Irial gave her a dubious look, glancing over at Harry who simply rolled his eyes at her dramatics, eyeing the couch like it was a bug crawling around on his kitchen counter.  Irial understood the feeling, curling up his lip at the hideous piece of furniture, "You _would_ choose to lay on the one piece that's awful, would you?  It's about a million colors, not one of them decent."   

"Well you don't have to say it like I'll get the plague, just from sitting on it," Rosie frowned.   

"That awful thing is not going in _my_ flat," Irial said simply.   

Harry shook his head, "Agreed.  It's ghastly."   

"How was your boyfriend's birthday, yesterday?"  Rosie inquired.   

Irial sighed, grimacing.  The question had been posed carefully, genially, like she was uncomfortable just outright popping the question, and Irial could understand that since he _had_ seen the pictures.  Logically, Irial couldn't get too upset about the images of his boyfriend partying in Atlanta with Kimberly Lakshmi, the band members from Azadi, and his best friends, which didn't actually help him feel any less irrationally upset about them.  Okay...so maybe it hadn't so much been the pictures of a nineteen-year-old popstar _partying_ at a club in Atlanta so much the fact that he'd been way too close, way too handsy, and way too...all over Alina Rosen to allow Irial to feel comfortable with the situation.  He knew nothing had happened, because Harry had called to chastise at him at an obscene hour of the morning in Georgia only to have the whole band give half-coherent, hung over confirmations that those pictures had been blown way out of proportion and that the only person who'd actually gotten anything on Crispin's drunken revelry had been Dominic who'd, apparently, legitimately fucked Kimberly Lakshmi in a bathroom (too much information as far as Irial was concerned).   

Sighing, Irial ran a hand through his hair, collapsing on a sofa that he'd actually consider purchasing, sinking into the cushions and letting his head fall back, "It's...nothing happened."   

"That's not what I asked," Rosie sighed before frowning down at the couch's price tag.  "This is a £5000 couch."   

Waving a hand dismissively, Irial rested his feet up on the attached ottoman, and Rosie groaned, dropping to sit cross-legged on the ottoman beside his Vans-clad feet.  She cocked her head at him while Harry settled into the matching love-seat with a thoughtful expression.   

"I knew what I was getting myself into," Irial finally remarked.   

"Did you?"  Harry inquired, eyebrows raised.   

"I mean...sort of?  It's not like I didn't think _that_ could never happen."   

"It's not like he has to be worried about _Alina Rosen_ , anyway.  She's totally in love with that bandmate of hers, Shahnaz," Rosie pointed out, waving a hand dismissively.   

Harry rolled his eyes, "Yeah, but I don't think _Alina_ is the point of discussion here.  Are you sure you can handle this?"   

"No," Irial laughed humorlessly, shaking his head, "but it's like...I try to picture my life without Crispin in it, right?  And I can't.  I don't even want to really, which is a bit pathetic as I've only known him for less than a year."   

"It is," Rosie agreed, and Irial snorted even as Harry shot her a chastising look.  "What?  It _is_ ; I'm not saying it doesn't happen, and I'm not saying he's _wrong_ because of it.  But let's be honest, that level of co-dependency the two of them have—because, _no_ , it's not just you—isn't _normal_ having only known him ten months."   

"Says the girl who spent every waking moment with Harry starting from the moment you found him standing naked in our first year dorm and offered him your cocoa pops," Irial said with no heat behind his words.   

"I call it like I see it," Rosie shrugged.   

Harry sighed, trying to regain focus in their conversation, "Iri..."   

"I know, Harry," Irial commented, shaking his head.  "I understand what you're asking, but, like, I love 'im, you know?  And I need 'im.  And I don't think I can just walk away until that's the only choice I have.  Besides, it helps that he sends me song lyrics about how much he loves me and misses me over Twitter and MMS while he's on his dates.  Although, I think drunk texting me 'Dirty Picture' lyrics by Kesha and 3Oh!3 might have been a little too much."   

Rosie made a face, "A little."   

Harry smiled gently at Irial, "I just don't want to see you lose your heart over this, Iri."   

"Where you nine months ago?" Rosie huffed.   

She had a point.   

"I think it's a bit late for that, mate," Irial confessed.   

"If it's any consolation, I don't think he'll _mean_ to hurt you, if he does.  I mean, the two of you are like weirdly in sync with each other.  You get each other; it's beautiful, really.  You're like me.  You don't just lay your heart out on a platter to be trampled over again and again by love, but there's always that one person you meet who's everything you never thought you wanted that makes you want to give them your heart because there's nobody else who'll ever understand you, who you'll ever be so comfortable with the same way ever again."  Irial glanced at Harry to find him staring in shock at Rosie, obviously taken aback; he smiled slightly, looking back to Rosie who met his gaze and gave him a watery, confident smile, "I'm not a romantic and neither are you.  We weren't sixteen year olds dating half of our high school class and claiming to be in love with them.  We weren't delusional, and we weren't promiscuous and we didn't toss around the word love like it was a currency, like it was something childish and simple and easy.  That wasn't who we were, and that isn't who we are.  So if you think you love him, I believe you.  And if you honestly think you could see yourself with him forever, I believe you.  And if you say that come hell or high water you'll fight for him until you just _can't_ anymore, I believe you, and I'm going to be here for you because I understand where you are and who you are and that this isn't ever going to be easy and someone needs to be here to both support you and be the voice of reason, and you're way too invested for that to be you."   

For a moment, all Irial could do was blink at her, nowhere near as shellshocked as Harry had to feel, but pretty damn close.  Rosie saying she believed in him and would support him and didn't think he was behaving like a naive child for saying he was in love with someone that he'd known less than a year made all of his worries, all of his doubts, all of his tension that their relationship was just some short-lived fling disappear.  The fears themselves hadn't been wholly genuine since Irial knew Crispin well enough to know better, but they still existed, niggling away at the contentedness in the back of his mind.   

Rosie, though, was clearheaded.  She was the girl who'd blinked at another one of their first year dorm-mates who'd declared she'd been in love with her boyfriend of only six months before promptly saying, "You're delusional, insane, and are going to get your heartbroken."  Three months later she'd given up her virginity to a guy who dumped her for his biology partner.  She was the girl who'd fielded a phone call from her friend in the States about whether or not she should marry her boyfriend of four years and said, "That only works in the movies, and he tried to cheat on you with Melissa all through senior year but she wouldn't bite."  She was the girl who'd posted on some guy's wall on Facebook that he "ought to stop saying he loves these bitches" when he "only goes out with them for about ten minutes before dumping them for the next slutty psycho streetwalker with bigger tits and ass."  This was the girl who'd written a paper on how young adult fiction had run the teenaged generation astray by thinking every relationship they'd landed in equated love, that sex equated adding a depth to affection, and that changing yourself for a man (or thinking you could change them) was admirable instead of just plain stupid.   

To hear her say that she didn't believe Irial had lost his damned mind just reaffirmed everything he'd already begun to believe in regards to his and Crispin's relationship.  The only question remained if they could sustain it through his constant touring, the PR dates, and the secrecy.  Irial hadn't been in the closet since he secondary school.  He hardly wanted to spend the next ten years unable to post the myriad of cutesy picture the two of them took or saying who his boyfriend was.  He understood that Crispin wasn't ready and wouldn't pressure him to be, but there was only so long that Irial could closet himself.   

Irial just wasn't sure how long that was.   

He reached out, crossing every invisible boundary that he and Rosie had ever set, and pulled her into a tight hug, that she returned immediately, "Did you collect your boyfriend's belongings?"   

Laughing, Irial pulled back, poking her cheek, "Right, you want me to clean out his massive, cavernous flat in one night?  I'm commandeering you and your boyfriend since you've already got your boxes stuck in that pretty Westminster flat I don't know how you two can afford."   

Rosie flicked him in the ear, "You should _see_ how much Soren's paying me."   

Irial scoffed, and Harry grinned, finally having recovered from Rosie's uncharacteristic comment, "We'll grab boxes on the way back and help you.  You're stuff was delivered, though, yeah?"   

"Quite," Irial sighed.   

"You're going to buy this £5000 couch, aren't you?"  Rosie wrinkled her nose.   

Grinning, he looked over at her, "It's fantastic _and_ we had a heart-to-heart on it.  The sofa, the ottoman _and_ the snuggler because I like them, _you_ like them, and I was chastised for trying to be economic."   

"Of course you were," Harry remarked, snickering and rolling his eyes.   

Rosie gave him a wolfish smile, and Irial slapped her knee, pouting, "Apparently he's Mr. I made more than £169,000 in our _first_ year on our _first_ album.  Like shut up, you twat, way to make me feel like an unaccomplished pleb."   

"You two are so cute," Rosie smirked.   

Flipping her off, Irial stood up, "Alright, let's go.  We need tables, bed sets, book shelves, and Cris wants a piano."   

"A _piano_?  Does he even play?"  Rosie asked skeptically, trailing after Irial.   

"Yeah, he does and so do I and so do you and so does Soren.  So that's quite enough out of you," Rosie laughed and threw her arm around Irial's shoulder, and he sighed and shared an amused glance with  Harry as he looped an arm around her waist.


	23. "Superhuman" Chris Brown ft. Keri Hilson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cris returns with a bang...and the boys get domestic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my first attempt so like...have mercy? I tried.

**Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
EU roadtrip with @rosieposie and Potter for the next 3 wks #roadtrip #goodtimes #wtfhostels  
  
 **Text message from Cris to Irial**  
 **Cris** : How's France?  
 **Iri** : Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?  
 **Cris** : Mais oui. Je te desire  
 **Iri** : :*  
 **Iri** : How's St. Louis?  
 **Cris** : I'm over Missouri. Bring back the deep South  
 **Iri** : The dirty South ;)  
 **Cris** : The only thing dirty were the pics you sent me  
 **Iri** : Who sent who a vid of himself wanking?  
 **Cris** : Like it didn't get you off  
  
 **Irish Rose (@rosieposie)**  
1 wk thru @DorianII choked on Polish vodka & both him and Potter cried at Auschwtiz  
  
To: crossesoflead@gmail.com.uk  
From: irialdorian@gmail.com.uk  
Subject: So shit went down  
So we went to Auschwitz last day of being in Poland (depressing but kind of really spiritual) and then went out to a bar after (I know but we all REALLY needed the liquor).  This drunk guy hits on Rosie.  She tells him to fuck off, but then he FOLLOWS her back to the hostel.  The whole way.  He tried to touch her and Harry went ballistic. Straight up punched him out then all calmly called the police.  It was fantastic and a little frightening to be honest.  Have fun (but not too much fun) in Chicago (don't buy a ridiculous amount of Blackhawks gear for the house you prat). We're off to Russia tomorrow, spending almost a week there, and I'll have to stick my tongue down Rosie's throat so they don't lock me away in a cellar (for the next 4 days I'm straight as a pole).  
I love you.  
PS 3 wks until we're both back in London  
PPS Your late bday present is brill  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
Wishin' we could start again. Wendy run away with me, I know I sound crazy don't you see what you do to me? I want to be your lost boy, your last chance, a better reality.  
  
To: irialdorian@gmail.com.uk  
From: crossesoflead@gmail.com.uk  
Subject: One and a half weeks is too long...  
I've watched every single episode of Couples therapy and all the seasons of Mob Wives plus I'm caught up on the Real Housewives (I know you're judging me, stop it).  Dominic and Kim got into another fight about how friendly he is with fans (alright, really? They need to relax). Penney flew out to see Benji and it was great to see her again (so did Jocelyn and Cheryl refused to talk to Micah at all for about a week).  Shah wants to pull out my eyeballs and fingernails, feed me to starving lions, run me over with a truck (no exaggerating his killer eyes make Stassi from Vanderpump Rules look tame). Javed and Yasmin think it's funny.  The boys and Mizra think I should run.  Both Alina and I are done with this shit and each other (we have 0 chemistry anyway). We (you and me not me and Alina) need to open more lines of communication somehow because I know we talk all the time but I feel like we never talk.  And the pictures are great but I don't...it's like...I love you and I miss you and management makes it worse. You should've been here.  I want you here  
  
 **Text message from Irial to Crispin**  
 **Irial** : I miss you and your stupid jokes and your cheeky comments and that boyish smile that you have when you fucked up or when you want something and your smell and your hugs and your addiction to Sci-fi movies and reality tv and the way you write song lyrics on your arms and get us both covered in ink when you forget to take it off before we shag and snogging you and holding you and kissing you and how you actually laugh at commercials and get weirdly protective over your cooking and get all cuddly and snuggly at night  
 **Crispin** : I need you  
 **Irial** : Eight days until you're home with me

* * *

"Calm down," Micah ordered, rolling his eyes in exasperation.   

Benji looked between Micah and Cris, smirking and shaking his head, eyes darting back to the tinted window, taking in London.  Dominic just frowned, fiddling with his phone and shaking his head every few minutes, not sparing Micah or Cris a single glance.  He and Kim were on the outs again at, what Dominic seemed to think, was a really inopportune moment; Cris thought differently, living on top of each other hadn't done positive things for their relationship.  It had been all well and good for the pair's sex life, but they didn't seem to function well domestically, which turned into long drawn out fights over toothpaste caps that really had _nothing_ to do with toothpaste caps.   

Whatever. Cris didn't really want to deal with Dominic's relationship drama or Benji's way-too-calm chaffing with Cris's bounce-out-of-his-seat excitement or Micah's 'at least you got to see your boyfriend half way through the tour' vibes.  He kind of just wanted Irial, plain and simple.   

"Jesus Christ," Micah groaned, yelling to the driver, "take us to Chelsea first, please?  Cris's is about ready to jump out of his skin, honestly."   

Their driver, Eli, laughed and nodded, "Sure thing, Micah."   

Micah gave Cris an annoyed look, "You have a week off, you'd better spend it in bed, because if you don't work _this_ out of your system, I may _actually_ strangle you."   

Cris shrugged, "As long as I get to see Iri first."   

"You two are _disgusting_ , I swear," Benji shook his head.   

"Have you ever actually _seen_ your new apartment?"   

"Some of it," Cris shrugged.  "Iri emailed a whole album before he agreed to sign the rental agreement."   

Micah rolled his eyes, "You'd say yes to anything Iri wanted."   

Cris didn't bother denying it, just shrugging his shoulders and tapping his fingers on his knee.  Benji laughed and nudged the toe of Cris's boots with his shoe, "Whipped, mate."   

"I'm gonna marry him one day," Cris promised, absolutely.   

Benji and Micah shared a long-suffering look, but Dominic glanced up from his cell phone and beamed widely at Cris, "I call best man."  Micah shook his head about to argue but Dominic cut him off saying, "I bought a Crispian shipper t-shirt while we were on tour."  There was a moment of silence and about a dozen weird looks before Cris just started laughing, and Dominic continued to look immensely proud of himself.   

When they finally reached the Cris's new building, all the boys peered out the windows as Eli was stopped at the front gate by the security.  The building looked like a palace, huge red brick with a massive driveway, fountain outside, and manicured lawns, a gate stretched around the property.  From the pictures Irial had sent during his moment of being uncomfortable with Cris's seemingly unending stores of money, Cris also knew there was a communal garden, pool, and gym as well as a private rooftop terrace that Irial had been sending him pictures of the entire week he'd been home (apparently Rosie and Harry had pulled the television up there and the three of them had done naked sunrise yoga).   

While Irial had told him he'd wait for him in the lobby, Cris had arrived earlier than expected, and Irial wouldn't be there.  Cris smiled, the nervous excited feeling fluttering around in his stomach.  Eli stopped right in front of the doors, and Cris grabbed his bag, thanking Eli before walking around to say goodbye to the boys with big hugs and irritating mussing of his hair.  He swatted Micah's hand away.   

"Don't be a stranger," Benji ordered when he shouldered passed Micah to wrap Cris in a tight hug.   

"But wait the required three day period before leaving otherwise I highly doubt you'll be set and Micah won't strangle you," Dominic stage-whispered, and Micah cuffed him on the back of the head.   

"Yeah," Micah rolled his eyes, "come over during your boy's first show.  We'll all listen together, yeah?"   

"Sure," Cris grinned, looking back at the building anxiously.   

Micah rolled his eyes, "Go!"   

"Tell Iri we said hi," Dominic added, and Cris smiled at them all, nodding, before heading inside the building.   

Rosie had vaguely complained over Irial on one of their Skypes about how weird his flaf was, what with direct lift access and "all that nonsense".  Irial had told him that he left a key right above the lift door in case of emergency, and Cris grabbed it, taking it all the up, the fluttering in his stomach increasing tenfold the closer he got.  When the door finally slid open, Cris headed into the hallway, peering through a door into what looked like the reception room, stepping inside when he heard a muttered curse come from within.   

The reception room was as huge as Irial had expressed but much more Cris's taste, a mix of both Irial and Cris in the decor.  Clean lines and cool colors mixed with tables of reclaimed wood, weird lanterns that Cris and Irial had found while walking through Camden once—which hadn't been a disaster for the simple reason that it was pouring down rain and they were in a punk neighborhood.  The piano that Cris had requested dominated the very entrance of the reception room, beautiful and vintage.  Irial, it seemed, had been busy framing and hanging pictures, sticking Cris's awards and Irial's diploma up in a display case by the piano, spreading some of the unique little trinkets they'd acquired around, mingling the spaces and making it a warm, homey blend of both of them.   

Cris dropped his bag and walked over towards what had become defined as a dining room given the table and chairs in it, and another muffled curse turned him to the open kitchen across from the dining room.  It certainly was beautiful, not _massive_ , but stainless steel appliances, granite countertops, dark stained wood, and, in the middle of it, Irial cursed as he tried to use his spatula to scrub charred eggs out of the pan.  Grinning, Cris watched Irial work silently for a minute, content to watch the muscles in his bare back work as he scrubbed vigorously, fluff of hair falling into his eyes and flannel pajama bottoms that were way too long to be his hanging low on his hips.   

"I hope that's _your_ pan.  I rather like mine," Cris observed.   

Irial yelped, dropping the pan in the sink and turning around to stare at Cris, mouth agape and chest heaving as he looked over Cris like he was drinking him.  He takes a deep breath, opening his mouth to speak before stopping, biting his bottom lip; Cris didn't move either, rocking back on his heels, eyes roving over Irial's tanned skin obtained from spending the last two weeks hopping from a Grecian beach to an Italian beach to a Spanish one, his honeyed hair was shaggier, fluffier, and a little lighter, the stubble that usually decorated his chiseled jawline and cheekbones suspiciously absent.  The lock tattoo he'd gotten on his eighteenth birthday on his hip, flying eagle exposed on his shoulder and upper arm, and the Snoopy, dragon half of the yin-yang tattoo, and his Djali from Hunchback of Notre Dame, a million memories they'd made together inked over his skin.   

Between one breath and the next, Irial had sprinted across the room, flinging himself at Cris who caught him effortlessly, bringing their lips together and sighing into the kiss.  Their lips melded together, tongues entwined as their lips moved against each other, Cris's hands trailing over Irial's smooth skin as if tracing it, committing it to memory.  Irial groaned, making quick work of pulling off Cris's shirt, dropping it on the floor and latching onto Cris's neck, sucking a bruise into the flushed skin; Cris moaned, head dropping back to allow Irial easier access.  He smiled against Cris's neck, mouth moving lower to nip and kiss down his sculpted chess, hands shakily unbuttoning Cris's jeans.   

Cris stepped out of them quickly, clumsily maneuvering them back to the nearest flat surface, mouths moving against each other; Cris's hand slid passed the waistband of Irial's pants, cupping his ass and squeezing it, smirking as Irial gasped and cursed, hips canting into Cris's.  Groaning from the friction, Cris ducked his head and sucked a series of biting kisses onto Irial's neck until they hit a flat surface; Irial hissed in surprise, but Cris only pulling Irial into a long, deep kiss, pressing their lips together and holding Irial against his body, bare skin sliding against bare skin.  Breathless, Cris pressed a kiss under Irial's ear and whispered, "Turn around."   

Nodding, Irial turned wordlessly, bracing his hands on the counter top and sucking in a shuddering breath.  Cris pressed a kiss to the top of Irial's spine, slipping his pajama pants off and draping himself over Irial's backside, hands skimming lightly over the skin of Irial's arms, hair on his arms rising under Cris's touch, and lacing their fingers together atop the granite countertop.  Pressing a kiss to the underside of Irial's jaw, Cris ground his hips, dick sliding between Irial's cheeks.  They moaned in unison, Irial's hips grinding back into Cri's dick, and Cris hissed, biting Irial's shoulder and stilling him, finger tightening on Irial's hands.   

"You're killing me, love," Irial breathed out.   

Cris rolled his hips, and Irial bit his lower lip, rocking back into Cris and resting his head on the countertop, "Lube?"   

Irial groaned, bucking his hips back against Cris's cock; he grunted, hips pressing Irial more firmly into the counter's edge and resting his head between Irial's shoulder blades, pressing a light kiss to his overheated skin.   

"Lotion?" Cris tried again, and Irial untangled one of his hands, reaching over the counter and groping around a drawer before holding up the bottle.  cris took it, pressing a kiss to the corner of Irial's mouth and breathing out, "always such a boy scout," completely unconcerned about how unsteady he sounded, fumbling with the cap as Irial pressed his ass back against Cris, pushing his erection further between Irial's cheeks.  Irial's breath stuttered, and Cris groaned at the tight heat, rubbing against his cock.  He barely mustered enough lucidity to ask, "Condom?"   

"Fucking...fuck, Crispin!" Irial ground out.   

Cris nodded, putting space between them, and squirted the lotion into his hand, lathering Irial's hole before inserting one finger.  Irial groaned, ass pressing back against Cris's finger.  He added a second on, and Irial's hands gripped the countertop, knuckles whitening under the strain.  Cris let Irial roll his hips back, fucking himself on Cris's long, calloused fingers, flushed, breathing uneven, an a sheen layer of sweat beginning to cover his tanned skin from exertion.  Cris added a third finger, and Irial moaned, pace faltering before picking up speed; curling his fingers, Cris dragged his blunt nails along the skin of his hole, and Irial cried out at the sensation, hips canting back.   

One hand gripping Irial's hip, Cris lined himself up, pushing in slowly; Irial breathed in carefully, head bowed, muscle taut, silent until Cris bottomed out, breathing in deeply and finally just relaxing for what felt like the first time in a long time.  He took a moment to run his hands along Irial's sides, re-committing them to memory, one hand settling back on his hip while the other trailed down Irial's chest, feeling the muscles of his abdomen coil and flew, fingers skimming lightly over his pelvis, stopping to grip Irial's swollen cock in his hand and pumping, thumb darting over his slit already moist with pre-come.  Hips jerking, Irial speared himself even deeper on Cris's cock, both of them moaning.   

"Crispin," Irial rasped breathlessly, "I swear to God if you don't _move_ —"   

Cris pulled almost completely out before Irial could finish before slamming back in, knocking Irial against the edge of the countertop.   

Pausing, Cris rolled his hips lazily, licking a stripe up Irial's spine and askign hoarse, "You good?"   

"Just fucking fuck me, Crispin Emerson before I pull out my vibrator and do it myself."   

"Such a pushy bottom," Cris laughed even as he complied, fucking into him in earnest, fast and deep and hard, both of them breathing shallowly, moans mingling.   

Irial turned slightly, reaching up and pulling Cris into a hard, dirty kiss, and Cris whined, thrusting harder and deeper, hitting Irial's prostate and swallow his keening moans.  Their tongues tangled together as Cris pounded into Irial's ass, their muffled moans and the slap of skin obscene in the quiet of the kitchen.   

Desperate for friction, Irial's hips rutted, trying to spurn Cris's hand, still gripping his dick, into action, and Cris stroked it, cock slamming into Irial's prostate while Cris pumped his swollen cock, twisting the head as he finished his stroke in sync with a hard thrust that slammed Irial's prostate.  He came undone violently with a loud shout, spilling over Cris's fist.   

Not a minute later, cris follow, slamming one final time into Irial before coming with a cry, burying his face into Irial's neck and rocking into his ass until they were both spent.   

Cris caught his breath before pulling out carefully, massaging the skin of Irial's hip when he noticed his wince, spinning him around gently and kissing him deeply, sweetly, saying with his lips and tongue how much he loved, adored, and had missed him.  Cris lifted him up onto the counter without breaking the kiss, arms wrapping around him and hands running over his bare skin while Irial's legs wrapped around  Cris's waist, hands tangling in his hair, soft cock pressed against his stomach, sandwiched between their bodies.   

Irial pulled back to meet Cris's eyes, eyes soft and a small but genuine smile on his lips.  He carded his hands through Cris's hair and cupped his face, "You're home."   

Cris met the silvery gray eyes he'd fallen in love with glinting with joy and affection and love and that little bit of omnipresent mischief that made Irial who he was before turning his head to kiss Irial's palm, gazes still locked as he whispered, "Yeah.  We're home."

* * *

"You could have just done this _yourself_ ," Cris whined and pouted.   

Irial laughed and shook his head, "And have you miss out on this charming experience?  No chance.  Now, princess, do you like aqua or scarlet towels?"   

"Neither.  Can we get the olive green ones?"   

"You're such a hipster," Irial admonished, tossing them in the basket.  He shouldered Cris out of the way, pushing the cart down the aisle, "What else do we need?"   

Cris sighed, stealing the frappuchino dangling from Irial's fingers and sipping it, reading over their list with a frown on his face, "Dishes, utensils, curtains—you quite forgot to add the poles to hang them—cookware, glassware, bins, and bedding, which would be nice.  What happened to all my cookware, glassware, and bedding?"   

Pursing his lips, Irial looked sideways at Cris, "Um...there was a bit of an incident with anything labeled 'fragile', which I completely blame on Rosie."   

"Do you?"   

"I do," Irial confirmed confidently, "And...you bedding was horrifying, hideous, and I didn't want it on my new mattress.  We burned it all in the fire pit on Rosie and Harry's terrace."   

"Lovely," Cris said dryly, coming up behind Irial and wrapping his arms around his waist.   

"Quite," Irial grinned up at him, kissing the underside of his jaw before elbowing him away.  "Fiend!  It's practically midnight; we're in public, and my body cannot stand anymore physical abuse.  My arse is throbbing in pain."   

Cris smiled impishly, running a hand over Irial's pert ass through the fabric of his sweatpants and squeezing it, laughing when Irial swatted his hand away.  He leaned over and pressed his forehead to Irial's temple, "You love me."   

"I've no idea why."  Irial huffed, tugging on the string of Cris's new canvas hooded jacket that he'd thrown on over his pajama bottoms and Henley just because of the fact that it had been Irial's belated birthday gift to him.  He'd picked up the jacket from a thrift shop in France then had collected buttons, pins, and patches from other stops on his, Rosie, and Harry's cross-Europe end of summer road trip.   

"What do you think about these?" Cris asked, holding up a white plate with a dubious expression.   

Irial grimaced, "Yawn.  We're not ancient quite yet."     

Cris stopped and held up a floral designed plate and looked over to see Irial holding up a set with some weird folk owl on it.  They both curled their lips up, setting the dishes aside and wandering down the aisle; Cris caught Irial's hand as thy meandered down the aisle bickering about China stupid shit, Cris's own rules regarding public interaction slipping due to the time or his contentedness or being completely drunk off being home with Irial, he wasn't sure.  If he was caught, Cris knew his management would crucify him, but he couldn't really bring himself to care after spending two months without any physical interaction with his boyfriend.   

He ran a hand over his arm almost reverently as his eyes darted over the tableware with only a fraction of the interest that probably should have been put into the errand.  The pair of them had spent the last three days in a state of near undress and absolute bliss going from bed to food to watching on a movie that turned into sex that turned into a shower that turned into sex that turned into cooking that turned into sex, which resulted in them eating a ridiculous amount of takeout between marathons of sex while playing Cris's vinyls and chatting during their shared meals.   Cris had never felt more at home than sitting cross-legged on the couch with Irial, stealing food out of each other's takeout containers, talking about reality tv and game shows while Queen played in the background.   

By the time they'd managed to pull themselves out of their flat for groceries (which Irial had either murdered or forgotten) and basic survival supplies, almost four days had gone past with little to no contact with the outside world other than Irial's occasional Tweets about his and Cris's sexcapades or Cris evading texts from the boys.  The first thing they'd done, though, had been (get Irial cigarettes, honestly) getting more tattoos, which was becoming a common theme with the pair of them.  Cris had ended up getting the date him and Irial had met tattooed on his arm while Irial had looked on, amused, and making comments about him always getting important dates inked onto his skin on their first anniversary (Cris had ignored him) and a Japanese cherry tree tattoo on the back of his neck.  Irial had gotten a Day of the Dead skull on his arm in memory of his biological father and a black triangle on his arm.   

Cris paused, staring at the flamboyant almost Hindi themed tableware set, brightly colored with an intricate golden veined design etched out across it.  Irial looked between him and the plates, sighing and reaching over to grab two set, placing them in the cart, "And people say _I'm_ flamboyant."  Cris grinned, and Irial shook his head, capturing Cris's face between his hands and pecking him on the lips before stealing the frappuchino out of Cris's hand and pointing it at him warningly, "Don't steal my caffeine, Crispin."   

Leaning against the rail of the cart, Cris watched Irial wandered further down the aisle, a warm feeling spreading through him.  He was home.  Now, he wanted to be out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there it is, my attempt at a sex scene. I just find them really awkward to write. Also, I've never met anyone who hasn't gone to Auschwitz that hasn't felt really strongly about it, and I couldn't let them go on a pilgrimage through Europe without paying homage to that hugely important part of history.


	24. "Rumor Has It" Adele

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cheryl rants about her otp. Dorian speaks has confession time that turns into defending Cris uncomfortably.

**Tumblr Post**  
 **I swear I saw Crispian**  
 **crispian4evr**  
I saw Cris Emerson in John Lewis (I have pics for proof) in the jacket Dorian put up on Instagram (that he got him for his bday). He was with this fit guy (short, blonde, slim but with curves, Mdx joggers). They were looking at bed linens, joking around, sharing a frap. Lot of lovebites. Can't see his face but it's got to be Dorian & they're WAY too close to be friends  
 **thinkicouldloveb4**  
He looks like the guy Cris hugged at Mdx grad. Crispian's cuteness gives me feels  
 **crissyanddorifeels**  
Those hickeys tho...definitely more than friends methinks O.0  
 **alispin7613**  
Wow. Ok just because 2 guys are standing together and sharing a drink doesn't make them a couple!  
 **doriangreymakesmyday**  
Dorian already has a bf...but otherwise I'd ship it :3  
 **wishicouldbeinyourview**  
I look at my best friend like that and we're not shagging  
 **massiveloveforcorian**  
Good for you. It's the touches AND the sharing food AND  the couples tats AND the heart eyes AND the moving in with your bff not your bf AND FLYING 500 MILES to spend 1 day in London watching your bff graduate. Sorry people. Facts #crispianisreal  
  
 **Text message from Harry to Cris**  
 **Harry** : You know I work pr for Dissident right now, yeah?  
 **Cris** : Yeah...why?  
 **Harry** : They want to kill you...fyi. You're about a second away from breach of contract.  
 **Cris** : Again, why?  
 **Harry** : Have you looked at Tumblr or Twitter? You probably just need to see the trends  
 **Cris** : Shit...why breach of contract?  
 **Harry** : I told Iri.  
 **Cris** : Why?! He should be focused on the show!!!!  
 **Harry** : READ YOUR CONTRACT  
  
 **Alyssa McClaren :* (@AlyMCCross)**  
#dorianspeaks is back!!!!! So excited to hear @DorianII @Cherrie_TA

* * *

Cris crashed on Micah's leather sofa with an air of complete unconcern while Micah looked a nervous wreck.  The difference, Cris supposed, was that Micah had never imagined his wild child, adrenaline junkie, jailbird girlfriend would ever be on national radio while Cris hadn't really envisioned Irial in anything but the entertainment industry.  Rosie had been working in studio with Soren, both of whom had decided to crash Breaking Fourth's listening party especially since Harry had to work overtime now that Cris had been photographed hugging, cuddling, and holding hands in a department store looking way _too_ domestic with a vague Irial.   

Rosie had glared at him for that before hunkering down between Soren and Dominic, smirking when Dominic commented on Cris's waddle.  _Whatever_ so he and his boyfriend had shagged _not really a secret._   

Cris rested his back against Dominic's arm, legs drawn up to his chest.  Micah collapsed against Cris's legs, throwing his own over the arm of his sofa and huffing, nervous about his girlfriend's first time on radio.  Benji came in with a bowl of popcorn and paused, pulling out a camera and snapping a picture of all of them leaning against each other.

**Benji Irving (@BenjiDIrving)**  
@DorianII @Cherrie_TA @breakingfourth and @sorensoars are ready for #dorianspeaks   

Rosie leaned over and glared at Benji menacingly, "You're lucky you can't see my face you dick!"   

Benji shrugged and sat down on the arm of the couch, feet resting on Micah's belly.  The Romanichal rolled his eyes but didn't force him to move.  When Benji's phone buzzed a moment later, Benji and Rosie both pulled out their cells and glanced down at the screens, a delighted smile on Benji's face and a scowl on Rosie's followed by another withering glare aimed in Benji's direction.

**Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
@BenjiDIrving is that @rosieposie I see? ;D   

Cris grinned over at Rosie who fumed, tossing a stick of gum at Benji's head, but he caught it, smirking at her, taking off the foil and popping it in his mouth, triumphant.  She smiled slightly, shaking her head and rolling her eyes at his antics, leaning back against the seat and listening as 'Loving You Was Easy' by Union J came to an end.

**Cris** : Good luck.

**Irial** : Thnx <3   

" _'Finding you was soooooo hard!  But loving you was easaaaaaaay!'_ "  Cheryl singed over the radio, loud and boisterous, tone deaf, laughing.   

" _Wow, Cherrie dear, that's quite enough of that._ "   

" _Do you think I should try out for the X-Factor?_ "   

" _Absolutely.  That would make for_ excellent _television_."  Cheryl cursed at him, which Irial quickly covered by blowing a raspberry into the microphone, now having to censor their liberal use of curse words over the radio waves, " _Anyway, for those of you tuning in for the first time, I'm Dorian Grey II, and this is my rather colorful co-host, Cherrie Taylor—_ "   

" _Who is now a red head.  Rihanna red_."   

" _Quite_ ," Irial agreed.  " _For those of you who are new, welcome to my first day of being a big boy and having like a career type job and Cherrie's first day of being employed...at least by someone reputable_."   

" _I resent that!_ "   

" _Resent away, Cherrie, but we both know it's true.  For those of you returning, I've missed you lot...not that you've let me.  I actually partied with some of you only a few weeks ago at that rave in Germany.  Fantastic party, Georgiana Weiserman, I applaud your rather liberal use of lighting and smoke to creat ambiance._ "   

" _So...she had good booze?_ "  Cheryl mused, and Micah smiled slightly, shaking his head, growing more and more relaxed as the show continued.   

" _Definitely that.  And for those of you who are only listening because I happen to Tweet Cris Emerson a lot...I have an interesting relationship with the Breakers...don't piss me off._ "   

" _Language, darling, language_ ," Cheryl admonished in a posh accent.   

Cris blushed when all three of the boys grinned down at him with amused smiles, ducking his head.  Irial didn't really have a problem with the Breakers; he just thought that some of them had a tendency to be disrespectful to privacy, personal space, and the unspoken rules of social media.  Plus...he had a huge soft spot for the Crispian shippers and felt that the Breakers tended to be way too abusive to 'his babies'; Cris agreed but management would run him through with a pitchfork if he protected the shippers on camera.   

" _So for those of you who don't know us—_ "   

" _Or for those who do but have better things to do over the summer than obsessively stalk Twitter_ ," Cheryl added.   

" _—We're going to play a little get to know you game so that you'll be a little more informed about what sort of nonsense you're listening to._ "   

" _Sit right there, Larry,_ " Cheryl instructed in the distance before speaking back into the microphone, " _Everyone this is Larry, he's an intern right here at BBC Radio 1 and has the supreme misfortune of working with us._ "   

" _You are also, coincidentally, a Larry shipper, are you not?_ "   

" _Umm..._ " Larry said hesitantly, voice surprisingly deep.  " _I'd rather not..._ "   

" _We understand,_ " Cheryl commiserated, tone light.  " _The Directioners—_ "   

" _And Elounor shippers_."   

" _Aren't the friendliest bunch.  We'd hate for you to be verbally abused by the One Direction fandom because you're one of those lowlife, no-good, fandom ruining, friendship killing, soul-sucking, bromance corroding, deluded Larry shippers._ "   

" _Um..._ "   

" _Wow, Cher, tells us how you really feel._ "   

" _Get over yourselves!  Honestly people they may have a big neon sign on their head that says 'WE'RE IN A RELATIONSHIP'.  At this point, quite frankly, they could tongue in front of 10,000 screaming fans and people would still find a way to claim the Larry shippers photoshopped everything.  Dear God, what more do you want, you irritating, hypocritical, naive, het girl little leeches?_ "   

There was a breath of silence before Larry felt brave enough to echo Cris's laughter even a little.  Benji was holding onto his side, and Micah smiles proudly, obviously glad that his girlfriend's newest attempt at employment wasn't a _total_ disaster.   

" _Anyway...the game is more like a ten question how well do you know us game.  Ready for that, Larry?_ "   

" _Um..._ "   

" _No worries, it's not like we're going to poke you with sharp needles if you get one wrong._ "   

Cheryl scoffed and stage-whispered, " _Are we not going to tell him about the finger cutting thing?_ "   

Irial shushed her playfully, " _Hush no, Cherrie dear, Dorian's trying to convince the nice uni student that his life is quite safe in our hands._ "   

" _Hardly_ ," Cheryl muttered.  " _Now,_ Larry _, we ask the questions, you answer, simple.  You ready?_ "   

" _I guess._ "   

" _Excellent!_ " Cheryl said brightly.   

" _Try to muster some enthusiasm Larry,_ " Dorian purred.  " _First question, Cherrie._ "   

" _Which of us spent twelve hours locked in a jail in Germany?_ "   

Cris started snickering along with Rosie while the rest of the room just seemed confused, obviously having not been privy to that nugget of information.   

" _I'm going with Cherrie._ "   

Cheryl started cackling, and Dorian scoffed, " _What?  I'm not scary enough to be a jailbird?  It was me!  I was held for accessory to assault and stalking after one of my best mates punched a drunk for stalking his girlfriend.  Okay, Potter, calm your tits, yeah?_ "  The room balked, looking to Rosie who just tossed her hair over her shoulder and shrugged, " _Alright, who lost their virginity to someone six years older on a boat?  A boat, though?  That's really how this was written?_ "   

" _How else would it be written?  Raft?  Wooden floatation device?_ "   

" _The latter,_ " Irial supplied.   

" _I think Dorian_ ," Larry said confidently.   

" _Two for two_ ," Irial lamented.   

" _It was me!  His name was Aidan.  He was actually an Irish traveller, and my mother beat me when she found out and then had me doing the worst chores in the house for a year and a half.  It was_ not _that serious, honestly._ "  Cheryl huffed, still annoyed while Micah buried his face in his hands, and Benji slapped his leg, laughing at his red-faced best friend.  Cheryl read out the next question, " _Who's shacking up with a sexy popstar?  Hmm..._ "   

" _Wait..._ " Larry pressed vehemently, _"I thought that was_ both _of you?_ "   

Irial burst into laughter, and Cris spared a glance at Micah who looked irate, " _She wishes.  For those of you who don't know, Cheryl has a terrifying obsession with Micah Cross from Breaking Fourth.  She is not, in fact, living with him but with my former flatmates who aren't exactly thrilled to have her as they share a bathroom and Cherrie dyes her hair in the sink._ "   

Micah was supposedly living with Jocelyn, which meant Cheryl moving in with him had been out of the question no matter the way Micah had proposed the idea.  He was a good boy who listened to decrees like that and asked permission so Cheryl had ended up becoming the third tenant of the Benton-Sterling-Ireland residence.   

" _Are you quite finished?_ " Cheryl snapped before retorting, " _Meanwhile, Dori, here is living in this posh flat with his popstar best friend and making midnight runs to John Lewis to buy linens and hold hands._ "   

All the air in the room seemed to drain out, and Rosie shot a sharp-eyed glance to Cris who stiffened before understanding the look.  She'd _known_ that was coming, which means that it had been planned by Irial probably since Harry had told Irial about his management's bitch-fit earlier that day.  Dominic leaned more firmly into Cris, Benji kept his eyes on his friend, and Micah leaned his head back on Cris's knees in silent support.  He had the best friends, really.   

" _Ugh_...that.  _Here's my question about how that got blown so out of proportion: why is it that girls can do all this cutesy crap with their girl friends, but I can't be sleepy and tired and up way too late being dragged into a department store at an ungodly hour of the night with mine?  Is this because I'm gay?_ "   

Cris stiffened, knowing how even bringing up this and having to subtly deny without _actually_ denying that they were exactly what they looked like killed him, but Irial hated having his sexuality used against him.  Not only was he the wielding it this time, but he was taking a plunge and using it against his beloved Crispian shippers.  Cris swallowed a lump in his throat and shook his head taken aback that Irial was willing to do this for him.   

" _A lot of people just think you cross some lines.  I mean, do you share drinks with all your friends?  I won't even share one with my boyfriend._ "   

" _Unlike you, I'm proper generous.  I share with my boyfriend.  I share with my best mates...unless it's froyo or ice cream or things made up of those substances._ "   

" _You hold hands and get all in you're friend's space like that?  Not that I'm not glad you don't pull that with me, but have you been lying to me about our friendship all this time?_ "   

Irial laughed, though it sounded tight and tense, fake to Cris's ears, " _Look, we were tired, and it's_ Crispin _, right?  He's amazing and sexy and my best mate and not exactly gay.  I tell him everything, he knows me better than anyone else, and before he left for tour we were basically inseparable when we had free time.  We get on really well and never really thought about those lines until this went viral.  Whatever, he'd just got back; I'd missed him.  I was tired.  It is what it is._ "   

" _So there's no truth to the rumors then?_ "   

Rosie hissed, sitting up straighter and glaring at the cell phone blasting the radio show; Cris tensed, not wanting to Irial to lie.  That, Cris remember, had been one of the cardinal rules of media given to Irial by Harry: never lie to the public or to the press.   

Irial laughed, still sounding off to anyone who knew him, " _I wouldn't say_ that _.  I mean, I'd definitely love to shag the hell out of him, right?  But find me any female under forty who wouldn't._ "   

Cheryl laughed, " _Wasn't one of his girlfriends that old?_ "   

" _Ew!_ "  Larry the intern exclaimed, " _He's not Harry Styles._ "   

All eyes turned to Cris who bit down on his lip, wondering just how long Irial could keep this up before he snapped.  Cris really needed to review his contract because Irial really needed to come out...again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you couldn't guess, I am a Larry shipper (not one that Tweets mean shit because I hate Twitter). I mainly just reblog cute shit on Tumblr, but it was a bad day in the Larry fandom with a hell of a lot of hate when I wrote this chapter, and I felt the need to express my frustration through my character. Also, Cheryl is living her life as a closeted girlfriend who's close friends with a closeted boyband member and his boyfriend who's also her coworker...why wouldn't she be a Larry shipper?


	25. "Fine By Me" Andy Grammar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cris's awesome PR girlfriend wants him to get home for his first anniversary.

**Breaking Fourth's Halloween Debacle**  
Everyone's heard the rumors of a certain boybander and his anonymous homosexual radio host bff/flatmate.  While still managing to remain infuriatingly anonymous, the uber-popular radio DJ and his popstar bff still managed to make headlines when Breaking Fourth and their respective girlfriends attended bandmate Micah Cross's girlfriend, Penney Dear's, Halloween Bash in Middlesex.  Reports (and some very hazy photos) say that the 19 year old boybander gave a familiar honey-haired, skinny jean clad man a lap dance.  Neither of the pair have denied allegations despite how vague the pictures are; the only explanation offered was a Tweet from Cris Emerson that next day that was retweeted by Dorian saying "Whoa...the things I do when I'm smashed."  Are the pair together?  They still say no, and we're still doubtful, but we still wished we could have been there to see that sexiness firsthand.  
  
 **B4 Updates (B4_Updates)**  
Congrats to @breakingfourth for winning every AMA they were nominated for last night  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@DorianII needs to stop sending me nudies  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
@Cris_Emerson is this about the pussy?  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@DorianII well it's certainly not about the weiner...they have hair anyway  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
@Cris_Emerson political correctness fail. They're called dachshunds now like how Indians are 'Native American' and dwarves are 'little people'  
  
 **Holden I (@holdtheirish)**  
@DorianII @Cris_Emerson whew thank God you were talking about hairless animals (which dachshunds are not btw)  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
@holdtheirish @Cris_Emerson of course we were talking about nude pets. He loves seeing nudies of me too much to tell me to stop  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@DorianII @holdtheirish O.O shhh...secrets, elf, secrets  
  
To: irialdorian@gmail.com.uk; crossesoflead@gmail.com.uk; haroldpotter6999@gmail.com.uk; dearpenney@gmail.com.uk; mustlovedogs@gmail.com.uk; owlguardiansoren@gmail.com.uk; cherrietayberry@gmail.com.uk; djkinsey@gmail.com.uk; chriscrossedmicah@gmail.com.uk  
From: rosieireland@gmail.com  
Subject: Listen Brits  
Brits,  
I'm aware Thanksgiving is an American holiday (so shut your traps bitches I am a fucking AMERICAN). Everyone's schedules are clear.  Everyone's in town (with 3 AMAs under their belts you whores). EVERYONE better be at my flat by 11 am ready to choke on turkey, pie, and corn then watch football while drinking beer.  
Thanks for your compliance,  
Rosie  
  
 **Cris and Alina: on again?**  
It's been only a few months since Breaking Fourth's Cris Emerson and Azadi singer, Alina Rosen, seemed to have ended their on-tour romance when Breaking Fourth returned to London to record their fourth studio album and Alina returned to America to spend time with family, though their have been reports of her being spotted around London.  However, only days after Breaking Fourth's Rockefeller tree lighting performance and before Azadi start on the Jingle Ball tour, the pair was spotted on a skiing holiday in Aspen.  The boyband stayed stateside, appearing on Good Morning America, Watch What Happens Live with Andy Cohen, and Saturday Night Live, their appearances in New York coinciding with Azadi's Madison Square performance.  The pair were spotted ice skating in Rockefeller Center, taking a carriage ride through Central Park, just generally being the cute Alispin popstar pair we've missed.

* * *

"No," Cris said staunchly, leaving no room for negotiation.   

Ashton raised his eyebrows at Cris's words, "No?"   

"No," Cris repeated, "no I won't spend the next week running around Annapolis with Alina when I could be getting ready for Christmas with my family.  Especially since she has just as much spite for this plan as I do."   

"Uh-huh," Alina confirmed from the seat beside Cris, nodding her head.   

Melanie, Azadi's manager from Dissident, gave Alina a sour look, but the girl just shrugged, unconcerned about whether or not she was in her management's good graces.  Cris hid a smile at least his sort-of PR girlfriend was a badass.  Melanie shared a look with Ashton before Melanie pursed her lips and said, " _Alina_ doesn't know what's best for her and her career."   

"Doesn't _care_ when it means whoring myself out," Alina muttered, her and Cris sharing a look of understanding that left both their managers sighing.   

"This is _hardly_ about not having enough time preparing for your family's Christmas visit," Ashton remarked woodenly.   

Alina raised an eyebrow and slanted a sideways look at Cris whose face only hardened, jaw tightening as he looked at Ashton, "No, it's _not_ ; it's about the fact that I'm not about to miss my first anniversary with my boyfriend so that I can run around with a fake girlfriend who'd much rather be hanging around with her _actual_ boyfriend or her family just because you're a prick.  _This_ isn't up for negotiation.  I'm _going_ to be home by December 19th."   

Ashton cracked his knuckles look stressed out, "None of this would have happened if you'd listened to me about keeping a low profile with your boyfriend."   

"We do keep a low profile.  We hardly ever go _anywhere_ together because cameras follow me _everywhere_ and he's trying to be _anonymous_."   

"Making jokes about sexting is keeping a low profile?  Being photographed giving him a lap dance is low profile?  Tonguing him on a dance floor is low profile?  Those dates you don't think the whole world knows about to Bluebirds and McDonalds and Mamounia are keeping a _low profile_?  Getting photographed coming out of a gay club that I _know_ he took you to is low profile?  Getting matching tattoos and the ribbon that symbolizes being bullied for your sexuality inked on you is keeping a low profile?  The fact that he wants to keep his face out of the press is the _only_ reason that Dissident hasn't served you for breach of contract papers."   

" _That_ ," Alina drawled under her manager's glower, "and then you'd lose your major cash cow _and_ screw the pooch because everyone would know you've spent the last year lying about your client's sexuality.  People already think you're tactics are almost a bigger joke than Modest! Management's... _almost_."   

Cris smiled at her gratefully, and Alina met his gaze and gave a slight shrug while Ashton looked like he wanted to strangle her.  Ashton took a calming breath and turned to Cris, studying him for a minute like he was probing for weakness that Cris wasn't about to show him.  Cris and Irial had been texting and Tweeting and calling and snapchatting near constantly since Breaking Fourth had gone stateside for the last almost month with only a few days of sojourn home in London like they couldn't function without each other...which may have been the tiniest bit true given the way he'd been a bitch to work with the one day Irial had completely crashed and gone out of contact for ten hours; Cris had barely been able to breathe right and focus until Irial had sent him a sleepy phone call babbling about Carly Rae Jepsen, family Christmas plans, and intruders in their house, which had dissolved into a very graphic wishful thinking of what he and Irial would be doing if he was home (thankfully the interviewer either hadn't noticed or had chosen not to ask about why Cris had to hide the boner he'd literally sprouted over commercial break).  Either way, Irial hadn't asked for a promise Cris would be home for their anniversary...he hadn't asked it about it at _all_ , which meant that he was worried Cris would be too busy partying with celebrities to promote his image and going on more vacations with his PR girlfriend of the week to come home for their anniversary, which was absolutely unacceptable.   

Sighing, Ashton ran a hand over his face before acquiescing, "You do _exactly_ as I say for the next three days, and you'll be en route to Heathrow December 18th."   

Cris grinned, and Alina ducked her head, hiding the smile.

* * *

Irial carded his fingers through Crispin's hair, head resting on Irial's stomach, arm thrown around his waist pulling him tightly into the curve of Cripsin's body, and leg thrown over his, ankles linked together, eyes watery with tears and a slight smile on his face as he read through the note on Crispin's phone.  Irial had spent the last several weeks carefully not asking if Crispin would be home for their first anniversary or off playing house with Alina Rosen.  Then, he'd gotten a call at 9pm requesting a ride of the airport the night before because Crispin was home.   

The cell phone invasion had sort of been an accident.  Ariella had texted Crispin at the crack of dawn saying he hadn't texted to tell her he was home okay and how did she get such a terrible brother.  Irial knew his password and commiserated with Ariella for a little while before flipping on Crispin's 'Iri's Favs' playlist and changing his name on Twitter.  Then he'd found the note, which was actually a song labeled 'Remember to send to Soren'.

 

> _V1: You came from nowhere/ swept me off my feet_  
>  _Couldn't defend myself/ hell, I could barely breathe_  
>  _Made my world technicolor/ me and you all the time_  
>  _Two hearts as one/ feels like you've always been mine_  
>  _I was here, then I was gone_  
>  _But you stayed standing strong_   

"Hey," Crispin grumbled, waking up slowly, looking up at Irial and blinking blearily.  Irial smiled at him, leaning down to give him a quick kiss, morning breath and all.  "What time is it?"   

Irial ran his arm over the bare skin of Crispin's forearm, and Crispin relaxed into him, humming along to 'Fine by Me' by Andy Grammar, content to wake up slowly; he murmured, "10."

 

> _Chorus: And now I'm back here in your arms_  
>  _It's like I've never been gone_  
>  _Hard to believe it's been 365 days since you first fell into my arms_  
>  _Just stay strong_    

"What are you doing on my phone?" Crispin asked way too calmly than a normal person would; it probably said a lot for how attached they were that Crispin's biggest concern wasn't alarm coupled with 'how the hell did you know my password' (simple: it was the date he and Irial had all but outed their relationship on Dorian Speaks, the prat) but more trepidation for what Irial could possibly be working on so intently.   

Humming thoughtfully, Irial traced his fingers over Crispin's bare skin before sliding back up into his hair, smirking when Crispin moaned; the boy had a thing with his hair, really, "Reading."

 

> _V2: The earth keeps turning/miss you beside me_  
>  _Barely been 200 days/ but you have redefined me_  
>  _(Chorus)_  
>  _Bridge: There are days when I wake up_  
>  _Just missing your love_  
>  _And there a days when one million words between_  
>  _Is simply not enough_   

"Reading what?"  He asked curiously, and Irial showed him the note, having finished reading through his song rough draft.  Crispin blushed, burying his face into Irial's soft stomach and groaning while Irial just brushed his own leaked tears away and bent down to kiss the back of Crispin's head.  His boyfriend mumbled into Irial's tummy, "Is it terrible?  I haven't sent it to Soren yet; I know it's bad."   

"Shut up," Irial said without any heat, and Crispin turned his head, peeking up at Irial.  "It's good; you're just embarrassed that I read it before Soren had gone trough it with a fine toothed comb and think I'm going to hate everything you write or say about me.  I quite love you despite how utterly insecure you are when it comes to your music."   

Crispin grinned, which was all the warning Irial got before he surged up, pushing Irial back into the nest of pillows that had been propping him up and giving him a bruising kiss.  The kiss was a thank you for liking the song, for loving _Crispin_ despite all the headaches he put Irial through, an I love you, an I need you, and Irial returned it just as enthusiastically, tongues tangling together as they kissed, breathing each other in, relaxed, at peace, at _home_.  Crispin pulled away but gave Irial one last peck before saying, "Happy anniversary."   

Irial bit his lips and shook his head, eyes still closed, pressing his forehead against Crispin's, "You came home."   

Crispin tugged on Irial's hair sharply enough to say he needed Irial's attention, and he opened his eyes, a nervous feeling fluttering around in his stomach when he saw how serious Crispin looked, "Of _course_ I came home, alright?  I'll be here for you, yeah?"   

"But...I mean it wasn't..."   

"Yeah?" Crispin raised his eyebrows pointedly.   

The tension drained from Irial, and he leaned up to capture Crispin's lips in a sweet kiss, "Yeah, love."   

"Good," Crispin grinned, stealing his phone from Irial's hand and getting up, "now, we have places to be today."   

Irial raised his eyebrows, "Do we?"   

"We do," Crispin confirmed cheerfully, typing something out on his mobile.  He huffed and gave Irial a long look before just rolling his eyes and tossing the device to Irial, Irial leering the entire time he parade his naked ass across the room to the bathroom, "You, me, shower now.  We're on a schedule, elf."   

He disappeared into the bathroom, and Irial picked up the still open phone.

**Princess Crispin (@Cris_Emerson)**  
But don't just say it, you should sing my name. Pretend that it's a song 'cause forever it's yours, and we can sing this on the way home.

Laughing, Irial turned off the phone and climbed out of bed, making his way towards the shower.  'Bulletproof Love' by Pierce the Veil, Irial loved them and had gotten Crispin addicted as well after...well...after they'd kicked off their relationship but fucking for the first time to this song.  "You're such a sap, princess!"   

"See if you're getting a blowjob this morning," Crispin scoffed as Irial stepped into the shower, pinning him to the tiled wall and kissing him slow and deep, moaning, their dicks rubbed against each other, hardening.   

"I love you," Irial whispered, and Crispin just grinned and pecked him on the lips before switching their positions and falling to his knees so he could get his mouth on Irial.  His head fell back against the tiles with a thunk  
 

Cris figured their day couldn't really have gone anymore perfectly, a surprise if he ever saw one because he'd expected a hell of a lot more chaos than they'd actually gotten.   

Irial had started out the day by pulling on a pair of stars and stripes super skinny jeans, one of Cris's vintage Doors concert tees and distressed flannels, and his beat up leather jacket that smelled like Irial's aftershave, cigarettes, and bit like Cris (after having lived in their shared closet so long).  He'd waited until Cris had pulled on his tight, shredded skinny jeans and red, white, and blue Converse before snapping a picture of their legs and feet, posting it on Instagram and Twitter:

**Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
@Cris_Emerson and I are rocking our love of North America today.   

Then he'd switched the mobile to airplane mode and declared he was 'done with social media for the day', which had absolutely blown Cris.  Irial _never_ sacrificed his daily twenty Tweets for anything.  When he'd had an allergic reaction to caviar in October, he'd live Tweeted everything happening even when the nurse had smacked him and said there was a cellphone policy.  Cris had just taken to apologizing while Irial did as he pleased.   

Their day had started out with Cris taking Irial to lunch at Ciro's, a pizzeria not far from their flat that he and Irial had ducked into on a rainy day and ended up sitting in a back corner booth for hours ordering pizza after pizza to try all the different flavors (though they'd say to their dying breath they were trying to outlast the rain).  Irial was of the belief desert and the main course can't be eaten in one place, which had drawn them both to DriDri, a gelato place only a couple blocks away from their flat, where they'd ended up just flat out eating out of each other's bowls, because that was life for them.   

Then, they walked; Cris kept an eye on the time since Irial had no idea what was going on as far as plans went, but they both had this ability to just _be_ with each other.  They ran into bookshops, music shops, creameries, and bakeries, finding places they never even imagined around their neighborhood, though Irial hadn't been impressed when Cris found 'one of those reclaimed, overpriced, Hipster traps' (he ended up buying Cris the fedora anyway).  The pet store, though, was a true test of strength; Cris ended up falling completely in love with an adorable Husky/Collie mixed breed, and Irial watched him, leaning against the counter and talking to the aging man behind it about temperaments, feeding, exercise, and grooming before disappearing to look at fish, which he said 'made much more sense seeing as how I'll be taking care of it for most of the year'.  It had been lighthearted, but Cris had still given him a dirty look and refused to talk to him until Irial had crowded both him and the puppy, kissing Cris deeply and murmuring 'I love you' into his mouth before tickling the excited puppy's bared stomach.   

Cris _totally_ didn't melt at that.   

They'd left the pet shop, Cris reluctantly and Irial radiating a level of smug that had Cris looking sideways at him suspiciously, and Cris had declared that they needed quick dinner before heading off to what he'd planned...which naturally meant that they'd ended up sharing Mighty Wings, fries, and a large coke while Cris made the drive out to Brighton, the pair of them singing along to whatever asinine things came over the radio.   

Irial had freaked when he realized Cris, sap that he knew he was, had driven them out to Brighton to hear Pierce the Veil play live.  And no one had looked twice as Cris had herded an overly excited Irial into the building for the concert.  It was as amazing as Cris had expected, chaotic and noisy but utterly freeing, thrilling, where he was just another face in a crowd of fans; he'd ended up chatting about hard rock vs punk rock with a heavily pierced girl with pink hair and her ultra tattooed bff, sharing a beer with Irial who had slipped under his arm, leaning heavily into Cris's side as the second band played.   

When Pierce the Veil finally appeared, Cris ended up dead center of the moshe pit with Irial, both of them having stripped down to bare chests from the heat of all those bodies pressed together, jumping, grinding, moving around in time with the music, screaming the lyrics along with the band.  Cris pulled Irial against him, pressing his sweat-slicked chest to Irial's back, wrapping his arms around his waist; Irial relaxed back into him, one hand resting over Cris's while the other grabbed his phone, snapping a picture of the band, the shutter of the camera going off as Cris turned his head to kiss Irial's temple.  Cris wrinkled his nose, and Irial grinned up at him, pressing a kiss to his jaw as he tucked his phone away again.   

The concert ended with both of them utterly drunk off how amazing it had been to just publicly be together...there _could_ be backlash but Cris doubted it.  He highly doubted anyone had recognized him, and, of the people who did (including pink haired girl's heavily tattooed bff), they had more important things to do than take pictures of him.  They followed the crowd spilling out of the venue, hand in hand, and Irial lit his cigarette as they both walked down the street, shirtless and waiting for the overheated feeling to abate before putting on clothes.  It was late and Brighton was beautiful, and they kept walking further into the downtown area in a comfortable, contented silence, Irial smoking with a slight smile on his face while Cris hummed 'I Don't Care If You're Contagious', fingers still linked.   

"Didn't you have work today?" Cris asked Irial after a minute.   

Irial shrugged, "Yeah, but I called the station and told them it was my first anniversary and could I please have the day off as my boyfriend was just home."   

Cris eyed him skeptically, "And they said _yes_?"   

"No," Irial said like it was obvious, smirking, "so I told them that I had the swine flu and you were nursing me back to health and I couldn't come in today for fear of coughing up blood in studio.  That's a biohazard, you know.  Cherrie wasn't going to have that."   

Shaking his head, Cris tugged Irial closer and kissed his hairline, "You're a menace."   

"You love me," Irial said lightly.  "Brighton is beautiful.  I quite like it."   

"It's big but it's got that quaint beach town feel, yeah?"   

Irial nodded in understanding.  The sound of waves crashing along the shore was distant but omnipresent, a serene sound that eclipsed any others.  It was nearly eleven, and most people had turned in for the night as Christmas holidays had begun, and the biting chill in the air had forced many people to choose the warmth of their homes rather than pleasant walks outside.  It was nice, though, that no one was around, and Cris wasn't entirely concerned with being spotted despite the fact that he probably should have been.   

Beside him, Irial stopped suddenly, and Cris glanced over at him to find him grinning mischievously.  Cris raised an eyebrow, "What?"   

Inclining his head, Irial asked, "You up for it?"   

Cris followed his gaze to the tattoo parlor and smirked, shaking his head; he was such a bad influence on Irial, truly, "What did you have in mind?"   

That, of course, was how Cris ended up with 'December 19, 2014' written in Roman Numerals on his collarbone, an infinity symbol reading "Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage" by Laozi on his inner arm, and a very painful calligraphy of 'I wanna hold your hand so tight I'm gonna break my wrist, and when the vultures sing tonight I'm gonna join right in' lyrics right on the bone of his arm.  Irial, on the other hand, hadn't been much better getting the Les Miserables insignia with 'to love another person is to see the face of God' written underneath it and the complimentary 'You've gone and sewn me to this bed, the taste of you and me will never leave my lips again under the blinding rain' lyrics on the same bone of the same arm.   

Regardless, Irial had indulged his boyfriend and gotten a tense and achy Cris caffeine and chocolate from the nearest McDonalds before hijacking his car keys and driving them both home.

* * *

**Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
Saw @piercetheveil tonight in Brighton! Got 2 new tats. My day was fucking fantastic  <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of the food places mentioned actually exist and are actually in the same vicinity in Chelsea where the flat is in my mind. I looked up pictures of Brighton...and I seriously hope it's as beautiful as it looks in pictures (since Hollywood and LA and NYC soooooo aren't). And Mighty Wings are gross. I've never seen a Pierce the Veil concert, but I did see them live at Vans Warped, which omfg was one of the best experiences of my life. Also, I wasn't so sure about what the venue looked like so I just pictured the place where I saw Falling In Reverse perform so there you go.


	26. "Porcelain" Patrick Stump

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cheryl uses the word 'girlmance' like it's a thing. A breakup is confirmed. Irial does some thinking.

**Ariella Emerson (@Ariella_Em106)**  
@DorianII is such a sucker. The lengths he'll go to so @Cris_Emerson will be mucho mundo happy #HappyChristmas  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
Say hello to my collie/husky puppy, Marius (I hope @DorianII is happy with that) #HappyChristmas  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
@Cris_Emerson quite...his name is Marius ^.^  
  
 **Tumblr Post: kisses4crissy**  
 **Um...what is this?**  
So...I live in Arizona out by Sedona, and I did this late night run to the grocery store to grab whatever not important. I swear that I saw Cris Emerson. He was with this redhead girl and what looked like her boyfriend and this like 16/17 year old kid. The two older guys were Brits for sure and they were buying all this shit for New Years'.  Then this guy, short, feathery shaggy dark blondish hair comes over. He sounded a hell of a lot like Dorian but i couldn't tell if he had any tats because he had on a sweatshirt. He put his arm around Cris's waist and Cris threw his arm over the guy's shoulder and they all kept going. I know it sounds crazy but like no one knows where Cris is for New Years even though he spent Xmas with Dorian and his family.  And Rosie lives in Arizona and has a 17 yr old bro (I checked through her Tweets) and Dorian said he and his bf were spending xmas out there with Rosie and Potter so like I'm def sure it was them!!!! AM I CRAZY?  
  
 **B4 Updates (@B4_Updates)**  
@breakingfourth announced they're taking off the next three months in preparation a nine month world tour spanning from April to January tix on sale Mon, Jan 11   
  
**A Breaking Fourth Breakup?**  
Now...we know what you're thinking.  After five years, big time British boyband has finally called it quits?  Well, after last month's interview on Dorian Speaks when Cris Emerson said, "We're hoping to be more Backstreet Boys than Nsync.  We love touring together and experiencing all these new things as a group.  Hopefully, we'll just keep at it.  We're not so over each other yet," that seems unlikely.  No, we're talking about the band's longest running couple, Micah Cross and model girlfriend, Jocelyn Penderghast, seem to have finally split after their four year relationship run.  Just before the holidays, Cross seems to have been dropping hints saying "it's been hard on us, either Breaking Fourth's on tour or she's away for a photoshoot or runway", a feeling that seems to have been echoed by Jocelyn who, when asked why Cross spent New Years surfing with bandmate Dominic Kinsey in Hawaii not with his gf, said, "It's just a lot on both of us." We hope they haven't split with wedding bells so close but the rumors seem to be true.

* * *

"Well, this has been a lot of fun being in studio with my dear friend Penney Dear."   

"Dori's doing that play on words thing again.  Not funny."   

"Wait, I thought you didn't like me."   

"That was _ages_ ago darling, keep up, but majority of the show we've gotten an influx of Tweets asking four things.  One, is it true that Cris's damned dog chewed up my favorite pair of Vans so I made Cris run all the way to the nearest Vans store to buy me the exact same pair and a milkshake from the creamery up the street from our flat at 10:45 at night when both places close at 11:00?  I don't know _how_ everyone heard that story—"   

"Cris was asked the craziest thing that he ever did in an interview."   

"Oh...well...yeah, I suppose.  He didn't have to give both the creamery's owner and the cashier at Vans a 200% tip.  It's not like I threatened to lock him out.  He would have survived without what I threatened him with."   

"Oh my virgin ears!"   

"I've seen your movies, Penney.  Hardly virgin ears.  The second thing, is if I know when the single from Breaking Fourth's next album will be released: yes, I do.  I also know what it's called and annoy the shit out of Crispin by blasting it every time we're home...but I'm not telling.  You'll know soon enough.  Third, I did change Crispin's name on Twitter last month because I had possession of his phone and couldn't resist paying homage to my favorite princess Crispin.  And fourth, well...you want to take this one Cherrie?"   

"She surely does."   

"Oh, come off it, _both_ of you," Cheryl took a deep breath, met Irial's eyes and grinned.  "It is true that Jocelyn Penderghast and Micah Cross have split for irreconcilable differences."   

"Is _that_ what we're calling it now, Cher?"  Irial snickered, and Penney rolled her eyes, smacking Irial's arm.   

"I'm not the press," Cheryl shrugged, a smirk pulling up the ends of her lips.  "I'm not about to pretend to cry about it.  Thank God, praise Jesus, it's _over_."   

"Enthusiasm that I find mildly disturbing," Penney commented, lips pursed and eyes narrowed on Cheryl despite how obviously happy for her friend she was.  "Is this going to be you if Benji and I break up?"   

"God no," Cheryl promised, shrugging, "I don't want to shag Benji."   

"I think I just threw up in my mouth a little," Irial gasped.   

"Gays," Cheryl admonished.   

Irial made a face at her and tossed his water bottle at her, and she squealed, ducking, though it still managed to hit her shoulder.  Penney clapped, "Nice shot, Dorian.  Very nice.  How did that feel Cherrie?"   

"Die you cold-hearted, wishy-washy, unfeeling wicked witch and take Kurt here with you."   

"I'm hurt, really," Irial said flatly, rolling his eyes, "And that, my friends, is all we have time for today.  I'm Dorian here in studio with Cherrie and _national icon_ Penney Dear."   

"I'll get you for that," Penney promised.   

"Now enjoy the sultry sounds of Penney's latest single 'A Thousand Faces' followed by the fantastic Beyonce Knowles's 'I Was Here' because I'm so gone for that song this week, been a pleasure," Irial waited until they got the signal that they were off air before sighing, pulling off his headphones, and sharing a long, raised eyebrow look with Cheryl across the table.   

"So," Penney drew out, and Irial turned to her with a lazy smile.  "Congratulations on not having to share your sort of fiancé with his PR girlfriend anymore?"   

Irial snickered at the open-ended 'should I say Congrats about that?'  Cheryl just smiled like the cat that got the cream, shrugging her shoulders, "Thank you very much.  Their contract was for one year, then it was extended three, but Micah point blank refused to sign an extension this time because he said he wasn't about to be attacked by anymore hammers because of engagement rumors floating around."   

"Hammers, huh?  I ignore Cris when his dating rumors fuck with my head," Irial mused.   

Cheryl gave him a long look, "Not all of us are quite so laid back about the bullshit."   

"Does this mean you can _finally_ move out of Harry and Rosie's flat?" Penney questioned.   

Irial smirked, "Right?  I hear Rosie's rather finished with you after you used up all her expensive frizz control strawberry scented hair product."   

Penney grimaced at that while Cheryl pointed a finger at Irial, "Not even true.  Rosie and I are in a girlmance."   

"Is that a word?"  Penney mouthed to Irial who pursed his lips and shook his head 'no'.   

"It's _true_.  We go riding together out by Kingston every Sunday, Wednesday, and Friday."   

"That doesn't mean she wants to _live_ with you," Penney pointed out.   

"Exactly, Crispin and I just had breakfast with her and Harry yesterday," Irial responded.  "She said—and I quote—'Love her to death but that girl needs to go live in with her heavenly patient boyfriend before I push her off the roof.'"   

Laughing at his attempt to replicate her accent, Penney shook her head while Cheryl rolled her eyes, "You realize she sounds _nothing_ like that, right?"  Irial stuck his tongue out at Cheryl who simply waved a hand dismissively, "And it doesn't even matter.  I _am_ moving in with Micah finally, and Harry's much more on the verge of strangling your boyfriend than Rosie is of asphyxiating me."   

Frowning, Penney looked between them confused, "Why?  He writes all those press releases about Breaking Fourth, right?  Their album's on track.  They're about to go on tour.  There's been nothing crazy about them—"   

" _Irial and Cris_ ," Cheryl coughed in clarification of who 'them' actually was, smiling angelically when Irial gave her dark look.   

"—in the press lately.  What's the problem?"   

Cheryl eyed Irial who simply met her gaze, a bland look on his face as he shrugged dismissively.  Irial turned to Penney to clarify, " _Harry_ doesn't write press releases.  I've known him for almost four years and proofread both his and Rosie's uni papers.  _Rosie_ writes press releases while Harry tells her what it essentially needs to say and how the tone needs to be; it's pretty amazing what they do together actually.   But he basically carries their PR department so says both the boys and Rosie before they hired him their ability to navigate high stress crises was second only to One Direction's management, which is why I _seriously_ doubt he's all too upset with Cris.  Harry may say he hates being neck deep in media shitstorms, but he actually sort of lives for them."   

Rolling her eyes, Cheryl flipped Irial off while Penney just looked between them, obviously still confused as to _why_ Cheryl had said that to begin with.  Sitting up, Cheryl announced, "The _reason_ there's been nothing crazy in the papers about the boys— _specifically_ Cris and his residents boytoy," Irial flipped her off, "is _because_ Harry's been working over time.  He was the one who organized how Micah and Jocelyn would publicly end their relationship."   

"But..."   

Irial caught the direction of her thoughts and confirmed, "We were _told_ to confirm publicly because we know the boys personally, people know us, and if Micah publicly confirmed it Harry doubted he'd be able to show the appropriate level of melancholy over the end of a four year relationship so as not to raise speculation."   

"But Irial and Cris here keep him doubly busy making sure the numerous sightings of them together being cute don't make it passed Tumblr drivel," Cheryl told Penney.   

Sighing, Irial leaned back in his seat.  He hadn't heard anything about that, but he scoured Tumblr, Instagram, and Twitter, keeping an eye on the Crispian shippers because he adored them a little bit...or a lot.  It was a problem, especially considering Crispin and his management had told him how important discretion was, how important keeping a low profile was, how important making sure the rumors stayed fringe rumors was.  It drove Irial insane.   

He felt like he was thirteen again and cowering in the back of the closet, afraid his life would become some surreal LGBTQ novel where everyone beat him up and called him a faggot.  He wasn't ashamed of who he was.  He wasn't ashamed to be dating a guy.  And saying he wanted to keep a low profile and not be hounded by the media had just turned into an excuse about why he didn't want the world to know his name or his face anymore.  Cheryl wouldn't care whether she spent the next ten years playing 'Cherrie Taylor' instead of 'Cheryl Atterberry', suspected she preferred her badass alter ego where people though her flaws were hysterical and unique instead of a sign that she was just another no-good gypsy who also failed spectacularly at being one considering she was twenty-two, unmarried, sharing a flat with friends.   

The reason Irial was still hiding his identity despite being almost twenty-two and with people begging for him to say who he was (not even just a bunch of teens and twenty-something year olds but the mature press as well) sat squarely on his own insecurities about his relationship.  He knew exactly what would happen the minute who he was became common knowledge, and people knew what he looked like.  His every move would be dogged whenever he went out, especially when he went places with Crispin.     

The only reason that wasn't the case already was because people didn't know what to look for or when; everything they did was done discreetly to protect Irial's identity, which was a bigger pain in the ass than Crispin trying not to be seen in public.  But then Irial didn't have to keep a person and a half space between them so no one thought they were dating.  That way Irial didn't have to keep his hands to himself so no one suspected anything.  That way Irial didn't have to pretend he wasn't totally in lust and in love with his best friend in public.  That way Irial didn't have to lie to people or subtly crucify the Crispian shippers who already took abuse from 90% of the fan base, abuse their management encouraged and Irial had helped to as well by constantly shrugging off their inquiries and cyber investigations as minor annoyances in his life to protect Crispin.  That way he wouldn't have to wonder if it wasn't just Crispin's management that wanted to shove him in the closet, but also if Crispin was hiding behind them to say that he didn't want to come out.   

The thing was, Irial hugely believed no one should be forced out of the closet, but Irial wasn't sure how long he could be a dirty little secret without losing his damned mind.  He didn't often feel like one, but Irial suspected that was because he was comfortably living in a bubble of ignorance, blaming Crispin's management and not him as well, which probably wasn't healthy but was at least keeping him sane.  Irial loved Crispin, doubted he'd ever love anyone as much as he loved Crispin, but that didn't mean he could handle being treated like everything he and Crispin had together was something to be ashamed of; he refused to let even Crispin make him feel that way.  He'd been there, done that, and wasn't about to go back down that path.   

Penney seemed to pick up on Irial's swift switch in mood; she put a hand over Irial's, making him jump, "Hey, you alright?"   

"Yeah...just...this world tour thing is going to be quite a test on me," Irial deflected.   

Cheryl knew him well enough to know that that might be _true_ , but it wasn't _the_ truth.  Irial avoided her eyes, playing his fingers, and Cheryl nodded, tone careful and full of meaning, "Yeah, yeah, I figured, but it won't be like the last one.  I highly doubt that Crispin's going to let his management get away with not letting you two see each other for nine months.  The last tour was half that, and he put them in a bind by up and leaving to go see you graduate dead in the middle of it."   

Laughing, Penney nodded, "I remember.  Benji called me at ass o'clock in the morning, bitching about how management was on his case about whether he knew Cris had plans to just up and leave to fly back to London.  He was right pissed at Ashton, said that he called him a twat for waking him up so early and that Cris wouldn't have sprung it on them only hours before leaving if he'd thought for a second they'd let him go back without a fight."   

Giving them a bland smile, Irial shrugged, "It is what it is."   

There was an awkward silence at the pronouncement, and Cheryl raised her eyebrows, looking satisfied that Irial had basically announced what his real problem was.  Penney sat up straight, eyes narrowing to study Irial closely, asking slowly, "Surely you don't think Cris won't want to see you while he's away on tour."   

"I don't think that," Irial promised truthfully.   

Penney frowned, "Cris Emerson loves you ridiculously, you realize that, right?"   

Irial sighed, tears welling in the back of his eyes, but he held them at bay, remaining stoic, "Of course I know that.  Who wouldn't love me?  I'm absolutely fantastic."   

Neither Cheryl nor Penney were swayed by his snarky, cocky commentary; Penney shook her head like she was gobsmacked, "Irial.  He wrote half their album about how in love with you he is."   

" _More_ than half," Cheryl huffed.   

"I _know_ that," Irial blurted, voice tight and biting.  "I have all the bloody songs they finished recording on my damn phone.  Look, I don't want to talk about this.  It's done.  This conversation's over."   

The girls shared a look but let it drop with the same reluctant abruptness as Irial's mood had.  Well, shit.


	27. "California King Bed" Rihanna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can be summed up in a Finding Nemo quote...and Dorian's bored with Cris's songwriting, Rosie's frustrated, Harry's pissed, and Alina Rosen has good ideas.

**Breaking Fourth (@breakingfourth)**  
Today's the day. Listen to #dorianspeaks to hear our new single '365'  
  
 **Princess Crispin Returns (@Cris_Emerson)**  
And all that I can see is you. I'm standing where the lightening strikes, I know this doesn't happen twice. You must be my once in a lifetime.  
  
 **Elf on a Shelf (@DorianII)**  
Happy Valentines to my gorgeous, thoughtful, sweet, talented, fantastic bf. It's been a challenge but I love you and wouldn't change any of it for the world <3  
  
 **The Breaking Fourth boys travel for Valentine's**  
It's the day of love and romance, and the boys of B4 are going transcontinental for their loved ones.  Benji Irving and actress girlfriend, Penelope Dearly, left for Paris yesterday after wrapping filming for a romantic sojourn in the City of Love. Alina Rosen, rumored girlfriend of Cris Emerson, was spotted shopping in her hometown of Annapolis with the band's youngest member only two days ago, the popstar showing no sign of returning home to London for the holiday. Dominic Kinsey admitted he was taking his mother and siblings to Disney in Orlando, Florida to treat them for Valentine's this year. Meanwhile, Micah Cross who only last month split with gf of four years, model Jocelyn Penderghast, confessed he'd be returning to his hometown of Bristol to spend time with his family. Glad to see that our favorite boys are all going to be good and loved up this year even if half will be getting the platonic sort.  
  
 **Kaycee Benzyl (@KCforAlispin)**  
Aww @Cris_Emerson spent Valentine's with @AlinaAzadi #Alispin #AlispinIsReal #CrispianIsFake  
  
 **Liesel B4 (@LieseltheBreaker)**  
@KCforAlispin ew...how about no #CrispianForLife #Crispian #Alispin  
  
 **Kaycee Benzyl (@KCforAlispin)**  
Crazy ass Crispian shippers: @Cris_Emerson and @DorianII aren't 2gether. Dorian said the rumors bother him. You're being disgusting, deluded, and disrespectful #Crispian #CrispianIsFake #CrazyCrapCrispianShippersSay  
  
 **Teri Bear (@carebearkinsey)**  
Here we go @KCforAlispin how are we disgusting? I doubt @DorianII hates us since he favs a lot of Crispian shipper posts, tends to follow them on Instagram and Tumblr, and mostly responds to their Tweets #justsaying  
  
 **Nat (@NatsALieB4)**  
@KCforAlispin @Cris_Emerson wasn't with @AlinaAzadi for Valentine's day. She was seen in Annapolis and he went to the Chicago v Pittsburgh game in Pitt  
  
 **Breakers for Crispian (@lotsofB4luvin)**  
@KCforAlispin @Natforpresident Cris and Dorian had each other's phones cuz they changed each other's names on Twitter #justsaying  
  
 **Pittsburgh Penny (@pittsburgher_B4_127)**  
@KCAlispin my bro tattooed @Cris_Emerson and @DorianII. Cris got an elf hat and Blackhawks logo, Dorian got a tiara and the Pens logo #TheyWereDefThere #justsaying #CrispianIsReal #YourArgumentIsInvalid

* * *

"I don't like that verse," Rosie commented, gnawing on her bottom lip.   

Crispin sighed exasperated, "Rosie, we've literally got to finish this today.  Everything else is done in the studio.  We're waiting on this song."   

"Why are they waiting?"  Soren asked, looking up from strumming his guitar, eyebrows raised so high they'd practically disappeared into his hairline.  Even Rosie looked up from the two notebooks perched on her lap with interest.  Crispin looked sheepish, and Irial quirked an eyebrow at his boyfriend over the glossy page of his book.   

"I might have told them we were nearly halfway done."   

Rosie and Soren balked, and Rosie argued, "We were barely even done with the _chorus_ and you said we were halfway done.  You're an idiot, really."   

Soren just sighed tiredly, "Why don't we just change 'admit that' to 'promise'. It'll make more sense."   

"Play it?" Rosie acquiesced, and Crispin sighed, relaxing back into his position, sprawled across Irial's lap.   

Handing Rosie the notebook full of sheet music, Crispin followed along while Soren backtracked only a few bars, and Crispin sang tentatively, " _I will leave and never look back. You think I don't know but I know that...Please don't lie. Promise you won't let it break you._   Yeah, yeah, I like that better.  How do you feel about it Rosie?"   

"Well, seeing as how we're now on an immediate deadline, it'll have to do."   

Crispin gave Irial a long-suffering look, and Irial snickered, pressing a kiss to Crispin's cheek and trying not to be uncomfortable with his boyfriend, best friend, and one of the most well-known and highly acclaimed singer/songwriters of his time writing a song about Irial's relationship insecurities while Irial was sitting _right there_.  He had mostly shifted from uncomfortable to really, incredibly bored; Irial reached over and grabbed his phone, immediately turning to Twitter for entertainment purposes.

**Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
@Cris_Emerson @rosieposie @sorensoars are song writing...I'm bored and Marius is napping :(   

Irial and Crispin's supposedly high maintenance puppy was almost three months old and had been theirs for nearly two.  Back in December when they'd wandered into the pet shop on their anniversary and Crispin had fallen in love with the canine, Irial had talked with the shopkeeper upkeep for a Border Collie/Siberian Husky mixed breed...it had sounded like a lot of work: lots of grooming, high energy, not made for apartment living, was going to eat them out of house and home.  Regardless, Crispin had adored the thing, and Irial had ended up paying for the pup, asking the store owner if he could hold Marius until Christmas.  He hadn't wanted to, but it was Irial so, naturally, he'd caved.   

Despite the warnings, Marius was a pretty easy dog.  He seemed to shed more than a woolly mammoth and was, in fact, eating them out of house and home (including some of the unfortunate meals they left on the counter unsupervised for more than two minutes), but he was quiet, lazy, and preferred taking catnaps than attacking people due to excess energy, though Marius was certainly playful, though mostly with Crispin who actually enjoy spending hours play tug-o-war with the dog.   

He kept scrolling through is Twitter, laying his battered copy of _A Picture of Dorian Grey_ aside to go through his mentions, which, of late, he hadn't really enjoyed doing.  It gave him a bit of indigestion seeing the Crispian shippers being supportive, adorable, and rallying on his behalf only to have people called them disgusting, deluded, and disrespectful.  He'd seen 'sick' thrown around, a few death threats, a few people telling them that they were mentally unstable and should go kill themselves, and the shippers were at the point where they were about ready to start fighting back.  He hadn't interceded yet because the Crispian shippers were armed with a hell of a lot more facts (even if the rest of the world looked at it more like 'circumstantial evidence') than their attackers.   

When they'd all ganged up on somebody's 'Alispin is oh so sweet' Valentine's day post, Irial had just grinned as he watched the whole thing unfold, Tweet after Tweet pouring in when the chick had decided to insult the shippers.  Irial had been curled up naked in bed with Crispin after having, in fact, gone to see the Penguins vs. Blackhawks game the night before and then gotten tattooed, and Crispin had woken up at Irial's quiet laughter, pressing up more firmly against his back, arm tightening around his waist, and he'd hooked his chin over Irial's shoulder, reading along with him as the drama unfolded.  He'd huffed out a laugh when girl after girl schooled the chick and murmured, "Our shippers are better than detectives."   

Laughing, Irial had nodded, "If you ever disappear, I'm hiring them to find you."   

Alina Rosen, who disliked the PR shit almost as much as Irial, had sent Cris a text message only hours later talking about how she was in love with the Crispian shippers and if she could have some of them.  Irial had decided he liked her and wasn't about to blame her for either Crispin's mess or his management's.  He hadn't exactly decided yet and still wasn't sure he wanted to.

**Cherrie Taylor (@Cherrie_TA)**  
@DorianII I'm basking in the afterglow of really amazing sex :P   

Irial decided his work wife sucked major dick, and he hated her guts.

**Holden I (@holdtheirish)**  
Lol @DorianII what happened to candy crush? Or your musical obsessions? Check out 'Say Hello to Goodbye' by Shontelle #EvenILikeIt

Coming from Holden Ireland, that was high praise.  The seventeen year old high school senior might have dressed like any artsy dude from Sedona who had been dating a Navajo since sophomore year, but Irial knew better.  He'd combed through Holden's music library when he and Cris had gone down to Arizona to spend New Year's Eve with the Ireland family (which had been awesome since they'd gone to the Grand Canyon, horseback rode across the desert, and visited Holden's girlfriend's reservation though even there their huge network of shippers had found them) and consisted of pre-2012 Black Veil Brides, Pierce the Veil, Miss May I, pre-2013 Sleeping With Sirens, Asking Alexandria, Slipknot, the Misfits, Avenged Sevenfold, blessthefall, Bring Me the Horizon, serious rock and screamo bands that had made even open-minded music lovers like Crispin and Irial cringe.   

So, naturally, Irial reached into Crispin's pocket and tugged out his Jack Skellington earbuds (because his boyfriend was two, seriously) and played the song as he continued scrolling.

**Alina Rosen (@AlinaAzadi)**  
Lmfao @DorianII...shame on you for not thinking of doing the ask me hashtag   

When Irial had extended the olive branch of 'I don't hate you because you're pretending to screw my boyfriend' by following not only her but also her entire band on Twitter (which had apparently ascended the still on-the-rise Persian pop band to a whole new level of awesome and had conveniently made the Crispian shippers stop hating her) they'd become Twitter bros.  Alina was cool like that and decidedly correct about the ask me hashtag, because what the hell else was he supposed to do with his life?   

In five minutes, he'd already gotten an influx that he answered carefully, choosing questions that wouldn't get him another interesting email from Dissident management, which thankfully had only been on his work email since it was the only one they'd been able to get their hands on (Crispin and the boys hadn't blabbed).

**Traci the Dane (@Traci_Breaker_)**  
@DorianII are you and @AlinaAzadi really friends? #askdorian  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
@Traci_Breaker_ we're not not friends. @AlinaAzadi and I don't hang out but she's a cool person and I like her  
  
 **Flossie Emerson (@glossie_flossie)**  
@DorianII is it true you got the Union Jack tattooed on your ass? #askdorian  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
@glossie_flossie lmao no! Is that going around? I got the Union Jack tattooed on my hip this week after clubbing but was so not drunk enough to get it on my ass  
  
 **Cleo Patra (@b4queen)**  
Do you want to get married? #askdorian  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
@b4queen um...not really? I think it's an antiquated tradition that ends in a messy divorce.  
  
 **Jacob MDX (@JaytheGay)**  
Do you support gay marriage rights even if you don't want to be married? #askdorian  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
@JaytheGay of course, like I support your right to want to be married I just don't want to be.  
  
 **Annalise Breakersxxx (@crissypooxxx)**  
@DorianII what's the craziest thing you ever did drunk? #askdorian  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
@crissypooxxx did a naked striptease on a bar while singing along to 'Girls Just Want to Have Fun'...then tongued the security guard who tried to escort me off the premises...oops  
  
 **Markos Herrara (@MarkoftheDragon)**  
Where's the strangest place you've ever had sex? #askdorian  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
@MarkoftheDragon I love your name btw...on some sacred pagan rock that we found in Sedona after a horseback ride in plain daylight in what I think was a national park with no trees around  
  
 **Roza Petrov (@DimitrisRoza)**  
Have you ever had sex dreams about your friends? #askdorian  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
@DimitrisRoza I read that book lol. And of course! My best mate is smexy as hell and #confessiontime I have shagged one of my close friends. Is it weird that I pictured @rosieposie as a guy and dream shagged her  
  
 **Ariella Emerson (@Ariella_Em106)**  
@DorianII Yes, it is but I love you anyway.  
  
 **Love Me!!!! (@mumsiecrisxxx)**  
@DorianII do you miss @Cris_Emerson when he's gone or are you glad you have the flat to yourself? #askdorian  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
@mumsiecrisxxx @Cris_Emerson is a pain in the arse but I absolutely lose it when he's not home.  
  
 **Dominic Kinsey (@Nic_Kinsey)**  
@DorianII that's because you and @Cris_Emerson can't go a freaking hour without talking to each other. He's shit to work with sometimes on tour and the time diff is funky #justsaying  
  
 **Harry Benton-Sterling (@HaroldBSterling)**  
@DorianII I'm going to kill your boyfriend.  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
@HaroldBSterling that sounds foreboding...   

His Tweet to Harry went out only a minute before the slam of Harry and Rosie's apartment door reached them.  Rosie and Irial shared a questioning look, eyebrows raised and eyes wide.  Crispin frowned curiously, poking Irial in the side and muttering that he needed to stop mentioning Crispin in his Tweets if Crispin was ever going to get any work accomplished; Irial just caught his index finger lightly between his finger and sucked on it, hollowing out his cheeks, and smirking when Crispin's eyes glazed over.   

"Crispin Samuel Emerson!"  Harry shouted angrily when he appeared on the terrace.   

Rosie whistled, Soren looked alarmed, and Irial lightly grazed his teeth over Crispin's finger as he pulled back from it and said, "Whoa, he used the full name.  Must be serious."   

"With you two, it's _always_ serious!"  Harry exclaimed, throwing up his hands and sinking into the cushion next to Rosie, utterly spent from his day.   

"Me?"  Irial balked while Rosie narrowed her eyes on him, suddenly blaming him for Harry's mood, "What the hell did I do?  I think I've been good the past month."   

Harry gave him a look that clearly demanded to know what level of intelligence Irial actually possessed, and Irial glowered at his friend, ready to snap at him.  Crispin just rolled his eyes and entwined his hand with Irial's, rubbing soothing circles on the back of his hand and speaking over anything Irial might have tried to say, "What seems to be the problem Harry?  I don't actually recall doing anything to warrant this level of aggression and anger."   

"Really?  I didn't say anything about the Valentine's day debacle, even though you got caught."   

"We were at a televised NHL game not hiding in WITSEC.  Obviously, someone was going to see me."   

"Yes," Harry sighed, " _you_ but not Irial since no one knows what he looks like, but you two can't go five minutes without walking into tattoo parlors where Breakers' siblings work who tell them 'hey, that guy on all your posters?  He and this other guy walked into the shop today and got these tattoos.'"   

"It was _Tumblr_ ," Irial sighed.  "Who actually reads stuff on Tumblr?"   

"Dissident!"  Harry exclaimed.   

Rosie looked incredulous.  Soren rubbed his head like it hurt.  Irial and Crispin shared a look, communicating without words that Crispin's management company was weird, invasive, and a new level of pathetic that they were seriously getting all worked up over the gossip of teenaged girls and Crispin agreed with him on that front.  Irial rolled his eyes and carded his free hand through Crispin's hair, "Look, Harry, we've both had long days.  Can you just tell us what the problem is instead of making us play charades?"   

"Your genius boyfriend here bought a Corian shirt from one of the shippers," Harry remarked.   

Irial cocked his head at a suddenly sheepish Crispin, "You know, _I_ could have bought myself that shirt."   

Crispin shrugged.  Rosie and Soren coughed to hide their laughter.   

"Not funny," Harry snapped.  "You're damn lucky that your residence has security, and we managed to get her to sign a contract about not revealing your whereabouts, but she had already posted that you ordered a shirt on Tumblr."   

Sighing, Irial shook his head, "Again with this Tumblr thing.  And why did you buy it from a private seller?"   

A tiny smile lifted the corner of Crispin's lips, "That shirt was by far the best."   

Irial hide his smile in Crispin's hair, listening as Rosie sighed but more like she was bored with the conversation than anything else, "Do I need to write a press release?"   

"They're still reviewing options, but I'd appreciate having one handy."   

"Play it off as a gag gift for Iri?"  Rosie asked, and Irial propped his chin on Crispin's skull, watching as she flipped to a new page in her notebook and began jotting things down hastily.   

"Please," Harry breathed.  He shook his head and murmured, "This would all just be easier if Cris came out."   

There was an awkward silence, Irial's stomach bottoming out and leaving a sick, nasty, heavy feeling.  Soren's eyes narrowed dangerously on Harry who froze, realizing he'd said something wrong; Rosie gave her best friend a poisonous glare that said she would push him off the roof if he said one more word.  Crispin stiffened in Irial's lap, hissing out harshly, "Well, that's not going to happen," before getting up and storming off, angry and tense.   

Irial swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing himself not to cry here in front of everyone.  Harry met Irial's gaze, apologetic, but Irial just shook his head and took a deep breath typing out the most appropriate comment in the history of ever to a situation like this.

**Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
"Good feeling's gone" Marlin, Finding Nemo   

Lighthearted?  Yes.  Vague?  Of course, but true nonetheless.  It didn't sound like his whole world had been crushed by six little words and a tone more arctic than the whole South Pole.  It didn't sound like his heart had just been shattered, world crushed, and life in desperate need of reevaluation that he knew he'd put off until Crispin had gone away, giving Irial the distance he needed to talk himself out of sticking around when all this situation would do was break him and make him feel like shit.  When he could separate how much he knew Crispin loved him from how very deep in the closet his boyfriend actually was and intended to remain.   

Thank God for Finding Nemo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did quote Finding Nemo...because that movie makes me happy even when I'm so upset that I want to tear down buildings with my bare hands. Whatever, this chapter is like the beginning of a relatively long and depressing twist in this story...and I'm watching Here Comes Honey BooBoo...*preens*


	28. "Evacuate the Dance Floor" Cascada

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cris done goofed...

**Cris Emerson and the Corian shirt**  
Big news over social media was Breaking Fourth member, Cris Emerson, reportedly purchasing a Corian shirt from a Corian/Crispian shipper that trended worldwide on every social media site in existence, which we're actually not sure is an exaggerated.  Corian/Crispian, for those who don't know, is the couples name designated for Cris Emerson and his best friend, gay radio DJ dubbed Dorian Grey II reportedly for his love of the Oscar Wilde novel and his own behavioral pattern before meeting his boyfriend around the same time as starting up his friendship with Emerson in his final year at university.  In the face of allegations, Cris Emerson told Sugarscape that he "didn't mean anything sordid by it", that buying the shirt was a gag gift for his best friend and flatmate, Dorian, who thinks that the pairs shippers are "adorable, charming, and frighteningly dedicated to their close friendship."  There you have it: he did buy the shirt but only as a joke; all you girls can stop killing trees for tissues, Cris Emerson is still very straight and still single quite possibly, having never confirmed rumors of dating Azadi's Alina Rosen, but we can still hope.  
  
 **Breaking Fourth (@breakingfourth)**  
Thanks to everyone for making 'The Road' the number one on the iTunes chart in over thirty countries #biglove #Thanks  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@DorianII is there a reason we have a dozen phish food ice cream pints? Another apocalypse I wasn't informed of?  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
@Cris_Emerson is there a reason my ringtone this week is 'Treacherous'?  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@DorianII it was that or 'Pompeii'  
  
 **Dorian Grey II (@DorianII)**  
...depressing @Cris_Emerson I don't like either choices :(  
  
 **Text message from Irial to Rosie**  
 **Irial** : Do you know what's wrong with Crispin? My ringtone's depressing, and there's an unlabeled maudlin playlist on our iTunes with 'Stay' and 'Just Give Me A Reason' and 'Say Hello to Goodbye' and a shit ton of Adele and Amy Winehouse  
 **Rosie** : What's wrong with YOU? He seems really concerned that you have a relationship problem and won't just talk to him about it  
 **Rosie** : That was basically a question...do you?  
 **Rosie** : What the fuck is going on Irial?

* * *

There was something wrong with Irial, had been for weeks, and Cris needed to fix whatever it was before he went on tour again, because Irial left with his thoughts was like an open wound left untreated, it festered and got infected and poisoned the whole damn body just because no one bothered with a little bit of medicinal alcohol.   

Cris felt a bit like a spoiled rockstar diva for feeling like he had no time for this interview and really no patience to be asked the same question over and over again when his life felt like it was beginning to unravel, but that's exactly what he felt like.  He couldn't even put his finger on why he felt like Irial had checked out; nothing between them had really changed except Irial talked a little less, with less enthusiasm and boisterousness; they still shagged and snogged and cuddled, but every touch and kiss felt like Irial was memorizing him, like he was planning on saying goodbye and never coming back.  Every morning, Cris startled awake and had to double check that Irial was still in bed before pulling him closer, arms wrapping even more tightly around him like he was afraid Irial would disappear if given a chance.  Irial never commented on it, but their mornings had been tinged with sadness, a moment of quiet where Cris would hold him, pressing a long kiss into Irial's bare shoulder, and Irial would lay still, pretending to be asleep for whatever reason when they both knew he was wide awake.   

He'd kept it to himself, his suspicions, until he'd sat on the edge of the bed in Irial's oversized Middlesex hoodie that fit perfectly on him, listening to the sound of the shower as if reaffirming Irial still lived there and caught sight of Marius curled up on the wired egg chair he'd claimed, breaking down into dry sobs when the thought immediately went through his head what would happen to his puppy if he and Irial split up.  The call to Rosie had been swift, immediate, and without conscious thought, but he'd thanked God that Irial took ridiculous ninety minute showers even when he was by himself, spending the entirety curled up on one of the chaises on the terrace with Marius laying beside him, Rosie and Harry talking him down from a very steep ledge.   

A sharp noise came from his earpiece and only years of having it in his ear kept him from flinching; he looked up, Ashton glaring at him from the wings of the studio hissing in his ear, Harry appeared behind him, yanking off the headpiece and speaking calmly into the microphone, "Relax and pay attention.  There's nothing you can do about Irial right now, and he's not going anywhere.  Cherrie'd kill him."   

Cris looked from his fuming manager to Harry who raised his eyebrows expectantly, nodding once, discreetly and tuning back into the interview.  He could practically hear the sigh of relief from the crew, and he leaned into Dominic, trying to find his footing again.   

"So your fourth album, The Road, finally came out about a week ago.  How was recording?  Easy?  Challenging?"  The interviewer asked.  They'd worked with him before, their second album Cris thought, probably other times too, Alex Ronan, Scottish.   

"We're quite used to it," Micah answered, shrugging, "so easy?"   

Dominic huffed, " _Most_ of it was easy until Dorian got involved.  We literally had all of it done by January, all the editing done, basically ready for release, but Cris had started working on this song and goes that he _has_ to have it on _this_ album.  We were ahead of schedule so we're all just like 'alright, that's fine then.'"   

"Right," Benji laughed and nodded, "and Cris told us weeks ago that the song was all but finished.  It wasn't."   

Cris glanced off camera to see Ashton looking pissed and Harry's eyes on Cris, worried.  He swallowed hard, biting his lips.  Micah joined in, "So Cris finally says, we're finishing it this weekend.  He and Soren and Soren's     favorite new songwriter are all at the songwriter's flat working on this song, but Dorian's there.  It was a _disaster_."   

Smiling slightly at the time he considered labeling pre-zombie Irial, Cris shook his head, caught up in the memory, "It was _not_ a disaster.  The beginning definitely was because Rosie Ireland is a nasty piece of work who over-edits, and Soren's still teaching her how to actually know notes by ear for songwriting transposition purposes."   

"Cris," Harry said tensely in his ear.   

"And Irial was bored out of his mind so he kept distracting everyone, especially when he used one of Rosie's temper tantrum papers as a ball for Marius and the dog knocked over everything on the table trying to get it."   

"This was a bad idea," Harry hissed to someone backstage.   

"But once he started reading and doing his Twitter nonsense, we got the work done," Cris finished, looking at Dominic oddly when he realized how rigid he was.   

Alex cleared his throat, and Cris looked at him questioning; Alex raised an eyebrow, "Irial?"   

Cris froze, mouth falling open; he looked backstage at Harry desperately, but he offered no assistance, throwing up his hands and shaking his head.  Micah shook his head, forehead in his hand.  Dominic looked like he was trying to be so still that no one noticed him, and Benji took a sip of water, whole face saying how much he wished it was something much, much stronger.  Looking back at the interviewer, Cris floundered a moment for what to say before deciding simply on, "Is this _live_?"   

Smiling sympathetically, Alex nodded.  Ashton looked about ready to tear off Cris's head; Harry had already begun rapidly text someone, probably Irial.  Cris gulped, shocked and horrified that he'd just ripped Irial out of the metaphorical closet, the sick feeling settling in the pit of his stomach wondering if he'd just hammered in the last nail on the coffin of his relationship.  Shaking his head, Cris bit his lip, buried his head into Micah's shoulder while Dominic patted his leg stiffly, murmuring into Micah's shirt, "He's going to be _pissed_ at me."

* * *

"So, in conclusion, _that's_ why you should never steal an elephant from a traveling circus...especially a Nordic one.  They're still barbarians the lot of them, I'm convinced," Cheryl said cheekily, and Irial stared at her opened mouthed for a moment before shaking his head and blinking.   

"Um...or it's _illegal_."   

Cheryl shrugged, "Your point?  So is treason but if the Americans hadn't rebelled—"   

"—they'd have billions less in debt, a government infinitely more trustworthy than their own—   

"—albeit still full of shit—"   

"—smarter citizens—"   

"—proper English and no guns—"

Irial scoffed, "Well if their socialist regime—I mean government—has it their way they'll _have_ no guns, and you'll have completed the first steps to becoming the new U.S.S.R.  Speaking of, can they just recycle the title as Russia is now actually much improved, on their way to capitalism, and actually practicing common sense and brutal, almost insulting honesty when it comes to politics."   

Cheryl huffed, "Shit, I should move to Russia.  My kind of place."   

"I'm illegal," Irial said flatly.   

She slammed her hand on the table dramatically, "When can I leave?"   

"No time like the present.  I'll even by the ticket.  One way," Cheryl flipped him off.  Irial blew her a kiss, "Now, now, onto bigger and better things...no, no Cheryl dear not anything remotely sexual, I mean questions."   

"No fun, Dorian, lord," Cheryl pouted.   

"So let's..."   

Irial's phone lit up several times, and he frowned at Cheryl who shrugged.  The station had criticized him for his tendency to answer questions randomly on air because he always had his cell on him.  Whatever, he'd just argued that it was a part of his particularly brand of schtick, and the show's rating were so good that they'd let him go after only expressing their disapproval.

**Harry** : Irial watch out. You and your boy better fix this. He mucked up big time

**Rosie** : Holy crap watch out, shit storm headed your way for sure

**Crispin** : I'm so sorry.

**Crispin** : I was distracted

**Crispin** : It just slipped out

**Crispin** : Fuck, I'm so sorry Iri.   

Running a hand through his hair, Irial frowned, a feeling of foreboding spreading through him.  He looked over  at Cheryl who raised her eyebrows; he shrugged, not really sure when everyone he knew had lost their minds but unwilling to let their psychosis effect his work.  Cheryl and Irial held a thumbs up and listened at the booth patched the first caller through.  Irial just hoped whatever world cataclysmic event that happened wasn't _too_ bad.  The last month hadn't been easy and wouldn't improve any time soon with Crispin heading out on tour in only a week with zero chance of return until December.   

There would, no doubt, be a string PR girlfriends to affirm to the public Crispin was not, in fact, gay for his best friend.  Which bothered him.  And Crispin would go along with it because he was so far in the closet he fucking owned property in Narnia.  Which bothered him.  People would think that Irial was literally just his gay bff who was obviously hung up on him.  Which bothered him.  That Crispin was a flirt who was screwing with Irial's relationship with his ghost boyfriend.  Which bothered him.  That Irial's clinginess was getting in the way of Cris finding a serious relationship.  Which bothered him.  Crispin would do something cute and romantic that people would find out about prompting an onslaught of shipper on shipper hate and abuse.  Which bothered him.  Crispin would hurry back to the closet and leave Irial hanging out to dry.  Which bothered him.  And Rosie and Harry would right a press release 'from Crispin' about how everything had been grossly exaggerated.  Which irrationally pissed him the fuck off because why wouldn't his closest friends having a hand in sinking the final bullets into the carcass of his dying relationship bother him and who the hell was he supposed to talk to?   

Marius, mostly.   

Cheryl and Penney a shit ton because he'd sort turned into a WAG.  Alina because she seemed go get it eerily well.  Not Crispin who he usually told everything to because he was separating himself, preparing despite how lonely, cold, and painful it was for both of them.  Not Harry and Rosie because he _couldn't_.  It's not that he blamed them for doing their jobs, but they did it, it was killing him, he couldn't whatever.   

"Hello, welcome to the show caller who are you and from whence do you come from?" Irial asked.   

They waited as the weird time gap passed and the caller answered, "Hey, I'm George Anders from Liverpool."   

Irial frowned.  _George Anders?_   He swore he'd gone to school with a George Anders.  They'd been chemistry partners; George had been a year younger, though, should still be a uni student.   

Cheryl spoke, "And what's your question, Georgia?  I know that's a bird's name but is it alright if I call you that?  I quite like that name."   

"I'd rather you didn't," George answered dryly.  "My question is this: is your real name Irial Dorian?"   

His whole world froze, and Cheryl's gaze darted to him.  _What the fuck had happened today?_   There was zero pause between him hitting number one on his speed dial and saying to George, "Hold that thought one second."  When the phone connected, Crispin didn't even have a moment to formulate a greeting before Irial was jumping down his throat, "What did you do?"   

"Um..." Cheryl ground out nervously.   

"What?" George asked, alarmed.   

"Iri...are you still on the air?"   

"Yes, Crispin Emerson, I'm still on the air.  What I want to know is why I have about a million texts from my mother to people I haven't spoken to in _months_ including your bandmate's sister's fiancé saying you had word vomit, and there's a shit storm headed my way.  I want to know why my lab partner from _sixth form_ is asking me if I'm Irial Dorian.  What did you do?"   

Crispin talked, very shaky and hoarse and with this edge of shock, horror, and sheepishness like he was afraid Irial would never speak to him again because of this.  No matter how much Irial _needed_ to be done with Crispin, there was absolutely no world that the pair of them existed in where Irial could ever resist him, could ever _not forgive_ him when he sounded so broken and beaten and shamed and depressed.  Irial simply couldn't hold onto anger with Crispin, which is probably why he was putting off his absolute 'fuck I'm going to breakup with the amazing love of my life because he's a closeted boybander with dickwad management who get press releases from my best friend and ex-one night stand' to when the boy was out of the country, a dick move but the only move where Irial would be able to not cave under Crispin's puppy dog eyes and sweet demeanor that compliment Irial's perfectly.  It wasn't even that he was upset about everyone finding out his name, just that it had blindsided him and cemented his urgent need to separate himself from Crispin before their relationship started to die a slow, agonizing, helpless death that would scar both of them more deeply than the situation already was.   

"Alright, Crispin," Irial sighed, a slight smile that he couldn't resist in his hopelessly fond voice, "don't have a panic attack, alright?  I'm not angry."   

"You're not?"  Crispin was surprised, taken aback, skeptical.   

"I'm not," Irial promised.   

"You promise?" Crispin demanded like a little boy, relieved but worried it was too good to be true.   

Irial huffed out a laugh.  _Fuck if he wouldn't miss this boy_.  "I promise on Marius's grotesquely expensive Burberry dog collar."   

"It's plaid!  You love it anyway."   

_No, I love you_ , Irial wanted to say, but he was on air so he couldn't and he wouldn't ever, which was why his heart seemed to be in constant aching pain, why he couldn't breathe normally, why his stomach churned, his chest felt tight, why he cried in the shower and pretended to be asleep in the morning so he could just imagine being Crispin's arms forever when one more day wasn't good enough let alone a whole lifetime of being his soulmate's dirty little secret.  It was a problem.  Irial swallowed, forcing his voice steady, "Yeah, yeah, weird Hipster, you are.  I'll let you apologize with pizza, calamari, and root beer float later.  I've got to clean up your mess now."   

"I love you," Crispin said softly but forcefully like he was tattooing it into Irial's brain and consciousness.  It was those moments where Irial knew that Crispin could feel this coming, could feel Irial pulling away and was desperate but unsure of what he should say or do.  He kept trying though to tell Irial every day in every way he could that he loved him and needed him and wasn't ready to let him go, all of which Irial knew, but everyday they spent living a lie wasn't healthy.  _They_ weren't healthy.  Irial was too honest to be muzzled.  And Crispin was too free and innocent to be caged by a secret he wasn't ready to share.   

"I know," Irial whispered before hanging up the phone.   

Cheryl watched him carefully as he took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and said, "No, my name is not Irial Dorian."   

A moment of silence.  His phone vibrated and Cheryl frowned.  George sputtered, "Oh...but I thought..."   

"I legally got my name changed over the summer before university.  I took my stepfather's last name, and I've been Irial Greyson for the last three years, but I was born Irial Mackenzie Dorian on April 26, 1994 in Liverpool," Cheryl's mouth fell open, and Irial laughed weakly but a little relieved, "Wow, that felt quite like coming out all over again.  So...anymore questions?"   

He very nearly broke Twitter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That didn't at all go the way I wanted to...but I figured it was about time Irial was out and he needed to be for the next chapter...and, yes, I brought the gun control debate, because I tend to have my characters talk about things that I see, hear, or are affecting me. Life. Anyway, so you now know how I feel about that. Also, about the Russia comment, when Irial says he's illegal, he isn't completely. So far, to my knowledge, the illegalization of homosexuality has only been instituted in St. Petersburg and *maybe* Moscow.


	29. "Say Hello To Goodbye" Shontelle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irial's plan gets put into action. Cris is depressed and determined and a little bit desperate. Irial's just devolving.

**Breaking Fourth (@breakingfourth)**  
The Road Tour kicks off tomorrow at the O2 Arena in London #WorldTour #WhosExcited  
  
 **Irish Rose (@rosieposie)**  
Most depressing movie marathon with @DorianII @HaroldBSterling @Cherrie_TA: August Osage County, The Book Thief, Schindlers List, Maverick, Flowers in the Attic...wtaf  
  
 **One mystery down...**  
Dorian Grey II, flatmate and best friend of Breaking Fourth's Cris Emerson, finally pulled off the mask and told us all who he was...or Cris did on accident when he name dropped with reminiscing about songwriting on Alex Ronan's talk show.  The anonymous radio DJ whose been that way since beginning Dorian Speaks on his university radio first year confirmed that Dorian Grey II is Irial Mackenzie Dorian Greyson, a honey-blond twenty two year old from Liverpool.  Outed right along with him was 'Rosie Posie' aka Rosie Ireland, a redheaded American who majored in creative writing and co-wrote Soren Reid as well as Breaking Fourth's most recent albums and 'Potter' aka Harry Benton-Sterling who interned with Dissident Management through the summer before Irial and Cris met and was hired just before graduation.  In the wake of his second outing, a number of pictures of Cris and Irial have emerged rom people who thought nothing of it before.  One can only guess what Dorian will do no that he's unmasked and in the spotlight.  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
Marius just ate my falafel balls :O  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@DorianII oh is that all? You actually had me worried there.  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
@Cris_Emerson slag! This is entirely your fault. Does anyone love me :(  
  
 **Breaking Fourth (@breakingfourth)**  
Hello Sweden...don't you look not frozen today...  
  
 **Text message from Cris to Iri**  
 **Cris** : Happy 22nd birthday babe  
 **Iri** : Dick I was sleeping  
 **Cris** : you love hearing from even when I txt you at weird hours  
 **Iri** : no comment....  
 **Cris** : XD your present's wrapped in the freezer behind the frozen chicken  
 **Iri** : wtf  
 **Cris** : Like you even opened the freezer since I left  
 **Iri** : no comment <3

* * *

" _Hey so, I guess I missed you.  I mean...I didn't think...it's fine.  I just wanted to talk to you, obviously because I feel like we haven't talked all that much since I left.  It's just weird, I guess, not talking to you like in person, I mean, sort of anyway.  Never mind my rambling, I miss you.  Call me back?  And could we Skype sooner rather than later.  I know it's only been like three days, but I sort of miss your face...like a lot even though it's all over the papers now.  Nice to see you're bonding with my puppy.  Love you.  Talk to you soon.  Bye._ "

* * *

It started slowly, gradually, a downward spiral that had crested on the horizon with the unmistakable clarity of a coming tsunami or tornado, the utter stillness and unearthly calmness that left everyone one edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop.  There wasn't really another shoe, though; every carefully calculated step that Irial took back away from the best thing he'd ever had in his life contained so much subtlety that the only person who could really pinpoint that there was shoe carefully, quietly being lowered to the floor where the dull thud would echo with a resounding, ominous boom that would effectively end the best relationship Irial had ever had, not even the best romantic relationship but the best friendship as well, was Crispin himself who couldn't actually _do_ anything several countries away when he had to perform for ten thousand screaming fans every night, though certainly not for lack of trying.   

April held onto carefully, delicately, with the gut-wrenching knowledge that this would be the last month of relative normalcy that he'd see in a very long time, stretching until he...well...got over the fact that he was leaving the love his life because neither of them deserved or could handle long-term the affects of hiding a huge part of who they are from a world that not only looked at them but studied them like a subject under a microscope.   

Irial cried a lot.   

And dealt with the media day in and day out, especially as more and more people unearthed random pictures they'd taken of Crispin over the past year or so, shocked to see that Irial Dorian was, in fact, in them and unusually comfortable living in Crispin's space.  The speculation escalated.  The hate on those speculating and supporting and believing that a relationship wasn't impossible increased with the speculation.  And the media shit storm exploded, following Irial in all his impending misery with far too much abandon for him to truly be comfortable with.   

He talked to Crispin because he _needed_ to and _wanted_ to and _loved_ to because Crispin understood him better than anyone ever had and probably ever would.  He listened to his jokes and laughed, volleyed, responded to them unpredictably.  He made light of Irial's doom and gloom over the paps being something akin to piranhas and how he'd never signed up for this shit when he agreed to be a radio talk show host all while subtly assuring Crispin that Irial could handle all the media bullshit, exposes about his wild past, university days, and rather depressing family history because he _could_.  He could deal with them digging into his dirty university days, ragging on his weird obsession with lacrosse, football, and hockey, prying into the skeletons of his dark family's closet, but he needed them to stop picking apart his relationship with Crispin, especially knowing that in four months there'd be no relationship to pick apart.   

Their calls were regular as were the text and Skypes because the snapchats were the first thing to go.  Irial couldn't look at Crispin's face and not have to fight back tears, nausea, or the absolute overwhelming urge to get on the first plane to wherever the hell Breaking Fourth was performing and demand that he and Crispin make promises that Crispin wasn't ready for so that Irial could sweep his dignity, self-respect, and feelings under the rug a little longer.  They sat in the mailbox unopened, coming in with less and less frequency but never actually _ceasing_ because Crispin was nothing if not persistent and pushy, a character trait Irial didn't possess at all that his boyfriend had in droves.   

His days were spent with Penney or Rosie and Soren or Harry whenever he managed a day off or Cheryl; no one seemed willing to leave him alone for more than a few hours at a time, which Irial assumed had probably been Crispin's doing, but he wasn't upset just tired.   

Which is around the time that he'd reconnected with friends he probably should have left at university, restarting his pre-Crispin pub crawls that ended at three in the morning.  Of course the paparazzi caught him, but it wasn't anything serious so everyone let it drop blaming it on the pressure (which it wasn't) or Crispin being gone (which was implausible since he usually turned into a clingy little homebody when Crispin went bicoastal).  His work went off without a hitch, and Crispin didn't say anything until he went clubbing after work with Cheryl's gypsy transplant friends from Bristol.   

The cameras caught Cheryl dragging him home so wasted that he could barely walk after having liberally downed four vodka sodas that turned into whiskey sours that turned into straight tequila shots because fuck if Crispin wasn't perfect for getting him a first edition autographed copy of _The Picture of Dorian Grey_ by Oscar Wilde and hiding it in the freezer behind frozen chicken Irial didn't know how to cook.   

Crispin had looked at him over Skype while Irial nursed a hangover listening to Crispin nag him about drinking plenty of fluids (" _no, not caffeine, babe, that'll just make it worse; yes, that includes your favorite tea_ ").  Marius had drifted off beside Irial while Crispin and Irial chatted, and Crispin had fallen silent before asking hesitantly, "Iri, what's going on with you?"   

"Nothing," Irial had replied.  Crispin had frowned, not believing him for a minute.   

Three days later, Irial had stopped put an end up their Skype sessions

* * *

" _I know...well I don't know why you've totally nixed the Skype conversations, but I'm a bit out in left field here.  I didn't...you don't want to talk about it, though.  I get it...well I...I mean, no, actually, I_ don't _get it.  I_ always _get it, but I don't this time.  Everyone thinks it's the pressure from the rags, but I know you.  You were doing this before I left, and I tried to fix it, I really did.  We can fix it...whatever it is, but we have to talk about it, Irial.  You have to talk to me.  And I feel like every time I try to reach out and get you to just be honest with me you shut down and pull away more.  I miss you, you know?  And I love you.  Can you just answer? Please, babe?_ "

* * *

May straight up sucked.   

Work was great as Soren spent almost a whole week in studio with Rosie drifting in and out occasionally, joining in on all the raucous chirping that went on between the him, Cheryl, and Soren.  He ignored the shrewd looks that Rosie threw him, the worried ones from Harry, the speculative silences from Cheryl, and the thoughtful, pitying glances that Soren didn't mean to shoot him but did.  Irial was separating himself from everyone, including Cheryl and Penney, though none of the girls actually let him get very far.   

Soren and Harry seemed to be laboring under the belief that distance would allow Irial to gain some clarity, which Crispin had pointed out numerous times was Irial's eternal Achilles heel.  Irial _always_ had crystal clear clarity, acted decisively, and played everything close to the chest because that's just who he was.  He hated vulnerability, hated negotiating, hated having to pander to what other people thought was best when he knew better.  'Time to gain clarity' often just Irial more time to plan, strengthening his resolve and preparing for the coming onslaught.   

Irial played a pickup soccer game every morning in the park to avoid breakfasts with Rosie and Harry; Cheryl had joined in too, because she was a tough bitch who could handle playing with the guys, proven when she received a red card in her first game for a rather aggressive foul on the forward who made the bad judgement call to challenge her skills as a defenseman and ended up with twelve stitches in his head and his arm in a splint.  Rosie usually joined him for lunch or managed to drag him some place for dinner, leaving the latter job to Penney when Irial outright refused.   

He wanted to scream at them for being pushy.  At Cheryl for dragging him out to go riding with her and Rosie (which he loved insanely much, not that he'd ever admit it).  At Rosie for being around all the time when all he wanted to do was be alone to wallow in his self-forced separation from his best friend (though he think he might go a tad bit mad without her company).  At Penney for jumping in whenever she could and constantly humming songs off Breaking Fourth's new album pointedly under her breath every time they were together, every reminder of how much Crispin loved him but would never love him enough or be secure enough just be honest about their relationship like a knife being plunged deeper into his heart (but he appreciated those little reminders of Crispin nonetheless).   

Snapchat was done, though Crispin kept sending him pictures Irial never opened, afraid his resolve would buckle under whatever cute, amusing little snippets of Crispin's life he'd chosen to share with Irial.  Skype was done, but Crispin kept asking because he needed Irial as much as Irial needed him, which is exactly why Irial had chosen to do this long distance.  Needing someone and being in a healthy relationship weren't the same thing; they both deserved honesty and happiness and something untainted by societal bullshit ideas of right and wrong, pure and impure, shameful and respectable...or at least a relationship in which neither of them was still held prisoner by that mindset.   

They still talked all the time, Tweeted with increasing frequency because Crispin just seemed desperate for communication with Irial after being starved of their usual overindulgent, obsessive modules of staying in touch that tended to defy time zones, social networking sites, rules of polite society, and any plans that weren't of the utmost importance.  Irial texted him because he craved Crispin's companionship as much as he craved the taste of him, the feel of him, the smell of him, the contented, complete feeling that he got just from _looking_ at him, but Irial had begun to cut back on that too.  Each message curbed, short and sweet; Crispin noticed and pushed regardless, rebuffing against Irial's attempted separation.   

It wasn't so easy to just kill a friendship that had been built off living in each other's pockets, sharing every aspect of every day.  Irial needed someone to vent to who could talk him down from a ledge.  Crispin needed someone who could listen to him complain about anything and everything that bothered him without judgement for being an ungrateful diva.  And that's what they did.  Irial still answered every Tweet, text, and phone call without fail, which Crispin seemed to be relieved about; his level of utter relief, the tension abating, apparent even over whatever mode of communication they were indulged in, like he was terrified of Irial doing exactly what he was about to: cut him off and avoid him.   

It was when Azadi came in studio that things took a turn for the worse, not that he would blame Alina but still.  She turned to him as they filed out and pulled him into a hug, "Are you going to be able to fix what's going on with you Crispin?"   

Irial swallowed and ran a shaking him through his hair, "No."   

Alina cocked her head and studied him, face as blank as Irial's was, "You want to go somewhere tonight?"   

They went to some questionable but high-energy club in Camden that played a ridiculous amount of electro and techno music that usually made Irial's head hurt, but was actually no worse than what his hangover would feel like the next day.  He drank too much and stayed out too late, missing three phone calls from Crispin, two from Rosie, one from Harry and every member of Breaking Fourth and two dozen assorted text messages.  There was an article about Irial going back to his old ways, and several people uncomfortable with his new extracurriculars on Twitter and Tumblr, including most of his original followers from Middlesex who wanted to know what the hell had happened between him and his boyfriend to send Irial back to his former habits.   

He was shaking and hurting and just ready for all of the bullshit to be done, pressing closer to Marius's warmth beside him, offering silent comfort and the kind of sweet unconditional love that only felines and canines and Crispin can provide, going to dial the phone when he saw the one Tweet that absolutely ruined him.

**Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
A drop in the ocean a change in the weather I was praying that you and me might end up together it's like wishing for rain as I stand in the desert

Irial threw his phone across the room, buried his face in Marius's silky fur, and decided to just focus on keeping it together instead.     

* * *

" _Dominic says it's nice to see that you're making friends.  Micah agrees and so does Benji.  I'm not so sure; you're too much of a control freak to be an alcoholic, which means you have to be doing this on purpose.  You're going to kill yourself Iri.  Your liver isn't made to handle being drowned in Tequila every night.  I_ know _it's Tequila because you have that face, the one you get when you're so smashed all the colors start to just blend together like those weird dot oil paintings that I hate.  You only get that far gone with Tequila.  Rosie says you're avoiding everyone except Cheryl.  Cheryl says you only talk to her at work.  They're worried._ I'm _worried.  Why can't you just_ talk _to me?  I miss you so much_ all the time _, and I know you miss me.  I just...can you please just try to keep it together, please?  I'm losing it over here anyhow, and now you're doing_ this _and I can't help you.  What am I supposed to do?  I love you so much.  Can you just answer because I keep calling to listen to your voicemail.  And I record your shows and play them 24/7—I_ fall asleep _to them—because I miss you and your voice and your sarcastic comments and the way you're incomplete without cursing.  Irial just...please give me something to gone on because I feel like I'm drowning in nothing._ "        

* * *

**Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
I just want it to be you and I forever. I know you wanna leave. So come on baby be with me so happily.

Crispin's Tweets were becoming problematic in the fact that they simultaneously made Irial guilty and depressed.  They also increased media speculation that he was pining for Alina Rosen who didn't seem the slightest bit impressed with that assessment of the situation; Rosie had summed it up quite nicely when she'd commented during one of their mandatory lunch check-ins that they "could learn a lot about research from your shippers."   

Irial loved his shippers, but they were a nightmare of the best and worst kind.  They'd picked up on Irial's downward spiral and Crispin's supposed state of depression, their waning direct Tweets and general flirty playfulness towards each other and ran with it.  They'd switched from bickering about who topped to whether or not they had already broken up (the nays were winning it seemed) and, of the yays, who they had to cry to or string up in the who is responsible war (which Irial could argue was himself but that the situation was also a hell of a lot more complicated than that).   

He'd basically become a surly, cold, sour-faced, nonentity between his pre-Crispin university level clubbing, partying, and drinking minus all the random hookups because he was still technically very much in a relationship, and work where he remained as distant and charming as ever.  That was mostly due to having stopped answering Crispin's calls and limiting most of their communications to subtly apologetic text messages he had to keep short and sweet out of sheer necessity so he didn't end up slipping up about how absolutely miserable he was and how missing Crispin was a physical ache like he'd had a part of him ripped out, the gaping wound left open.   

Tweeting and stalking Crispin's Twitter and Instagram had become an almost religious practice, even more so than it had been previously, and also kept him grounded and sane, especially when it came to Crispin.  He was so used to gaining all those little moments from phone calls and Skypes and snapchats and texts and Tweets that there'd been no hope in simply cutting off his access to Crispin; thankfully, Crispin had yet to give up.  He flooded Irial with texts and calls that were painfully beautifully just sharing with him about the day and his experiences and the tour and what crazy PR shit his management wanted him to do, but it looked like with his and Irial's relationship tapering off so did the PR dates, which Irial was insanely, irrationally grateful for.  He read every text and listened to every voicemail because living without some part of Crispin, Irial was realizing, seemed damn near impossible.   

In that way, June became a mix of him blasting every sad love song on the planet (God bless Pandora Radio, truly) while Marius kept him company, surprisingly chill as Irial drank way too much wine, ate way too much Phish Food (because fuck if Rocky Road wasn't stereotypical _and_ gross), read way too much Crispian/Corian/Crisial (which was actually technically correct) fanfiction and support blogs, obsessively stalked Crispin's anonymous Tumblr which had basically reverted to depressing shit about heart break, love, and an embarrassing amount of reblogged Crisial cuteness, pictures of Irial, and depressing playlists, and flipping through the numerous photos and videos that Crispin and Irial had somehow managed to accumulate of their life together...and working which had become his single happy place where he could shove on the facade that he wanted the world to see with perfect execution...and partying with whoever until he was so wasted choking on his own vomit was a real possibility.   

It sucked.   

His life sucked, but it would be better, _had_ to be better long term than a life of both him and Crispin living lies, covering their tracks, hiding behind beards or specter boyfriends, drowning in a buck of shame so deep that it made the Mariana Trench look shallow as a kiddie pool by comparison.  And he'd yet to break up with Crispin, at a stand still of how to actually do that since Crispin deserved more than a text message to end what could have been a perfect, life-long thing if the world was a better place and they were different people.  Irial's plan wrote him into a corner, an impasse he couldn't get out from without facing his buckling resolve head-on.   

So...he put it off for another month, devolving dangerous   

Simultaneously, it was two things in late July that drove him over the edge, both from Crispin.   

The first was a Tweet he'd seen coming but couldn't quite fathom even as he could.

**Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
And I got no plans for the weekend so should we speak then keep it between friends though I know you'll never love me like you used to.

And the second was a message:   

" _I've been obsessively flipping through that zip-drive you gave me before I left.  Of us and  all those pictures of...I mean.  Look you still love me, right?  I need...I want to believe that.  I_ do _believe that.  I just...this is so fucked, Irial.  I need you and you know I need you and I love you and you know that.  And I know you're ignoring me.  Why can't we just talk about whatever I did wrong?  I can fix it.  We can fix it.  I need you to talk to me because I'm running out of hope here.  I feel like I'm drowning and breaking and like my whole fucking world if off kilter because you're not in it.  I need you to answer me.  I love you so much, Irial. Please...just give me a chance to just_ try _.  At least promise me I won't get home and find everything gone like you were never there because I think I'd lose it, Iri.  I think I already am but just don't leave yet. Please, I miss you._ "   

Irial bawled and lost it.  There wasn't really any excuse, but it happened regardless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was not fun to write. I'm ashamed to admit I actually cried while writing Cris's voicemails to Irial. Anyway, the songs in Crispin's Tweets are (in order): A Drop In the Ocean by Ron Pope, Happily by One Direction (which is actually amazing and sad...like I cried the first time I listened to it and is the reason I actually now have a decent amount of respect for that band; if you don't listen to them, check out their newest album, I'm not and have never been a Directioner but their third album is beautiful), and Drunk by Ed Sheeran.


	30. "I Almost Do" Taylor Swift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys are shocked (and kind of pissed); Cris is becoming a bucket full of problematic...and he totally has sex-tapes and nudies saved in a file in his necklace.

**Tumblr Post**  
 **Guys is our ship sinking?**  
 **ItsCrisialBitches**  
What the hell is going on with Irial? Do you think Crisial's done?  
 **fight4crispian**  
Not judging by Cris's Tweets. He's still in this  
 **crissyroxmysox**  
You crazy shippers ruined their friendship.  
 **iriloveshiscrispin**  
If they're done I will seriously never believe love can be forever  
 **itsdoriansdoing**  
What the fuck is Irial Dorian doing? He's acting like a drunk shitty shit again. I'm done with him right now. Go call your boy  
 **catchingdreams092815**  
It's unfair to judge Irial when no one knows what's going on with him. Maybe they can fix shit, maybe not, but no one knows enough to crucify Irial. He looks like he could live without the bullshit right now  
 **CheshiresBreakerCat**  
And he looks just as fucked up as Cris.  
 **fight4crispian**  
This truth though^  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
Saw All Time Low in concert yesterday with @HaroldBSterling and had first 4th of July with @rosieposie #FuckingWeird #YouGotIndependenceFromMe #FinallySomeFuckingNormalcy  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
We can build a universe right here. The world could disappear. I just need you near.  
  
 **Dorian done dating?**  
Popular radio DJ, Irial Dorian, has had a busy four months with media scrutiny for newly reacquired partying pastimes, obvious strain on friendship with Cris Emerson after the popstar disclosed his identity on Alex Ronan's talk show day before departing, and rumors of his relationship with still anonymous long-time boyfriend falling apart.  Seems like there may be some truth in that as only last night he was spotted lip-locking with supposedly straight actor, Charles Beck, at a club in Primrose Hill.  As for if he broke up with boyfriend beforehand...only time will tell and we can't wait.  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
Part of you is dying, drowning in the way we used to be, but you don't see we're going down together cause what's killing you is killing me.

* * *

"What are you watching?"  Micah demanded, peering over the side of Cris's bunk to get a glimpse of the screen.   

Cris raised an eyebrow, shifting his arm under his head without actually moving or bothering to move the laptop resting on the edge of the bunk between where his body lay on its side and the edge, and continued to watch, earbuds wedged deeply into his ear canal.  He cracked a smile when Micah jerked back away from the screen to look at Cris with a scandalized expression.  Maybe his mental scarring would teach him not to be so nosy, though Cris very much doubted it; instead he kept his eyes on screen until Micah crossed his arms over his chest and cleared his throat.   

"What Micah?"  Cris sighed.   

"Is that a sex tape?"  Cris pressed the spacebar on his laptop abruptly, taking one of the earbuds out and giving Micah an expression that clearly said 'duh, what else would it be?'  Micah balked, "Of you and Irial?  You're watching a sex tape of you and Irial.  I...what...you two have a sex tape?"   

"We have like five."   

"Do you really think it's safe to have a sex tape on your laptop?"   

"Wow, you're really stuck on this."   

"You have a _sex tape_ of you and Irial Dorian—"   

"Can you _not_ say his name like his some unattainable _thing_?"  Cris swallowed, feeling shitty because that's exactly what Cris felt like about 90% of the time now.  Whenever he got a nugget of a response from Irial, even an indirect Tweet that referenced something that he'd said in one of the long rambling phone messages he tended to leave, Cris felt like his world centered a little more, right now it was so skewed he didn't even know what was up and what was down.   

"— _on your laptop_ ," Micah finished.   

"Why are you freaking out about this?"  Cris asked curiously, popping another Dorito in his mouth.  He hated Doritos, truly, but they made some excellent comfort food in lieu of ice cream.   

"I think," Dominic said, poking his his head out of his own bunk, "he's afraid of another Justin Bieber thing happening and someone leaking them if it ever gets stolen."   

Rolling his eyes, Cris closed out of the video and pulled the flash-drive from its port, folding it up, and putting it back around his neck, holding the wood carved dog pendant he'd been wearing religiously since the start of tour up for Micah to see pointedly.  Micah raised his eyebrows, and Dominic looked impressed, "Iri," he paused, stopped and bit his lip, taking a deep, steady breath before he could continue, "gave it to me before we left."   

Micah drew in a shaky breath and nodded, "What's on it?  Just a bunch of sex tapes?"   

Cris gave a wan smile at his attempt at being lighthearted but didn't really succeed at appearing unconcerned, shaking his head and fighting back tears when he said, "Everything."   

Sighing, Micah ran a hand through his hair and nodded slowly; Cris tossed his friend a watery smile before his eyes caught on the dimmed laptop screen, the image from his last web search and the article still up on his Internet browser.  His stomach churned, and he shook his head, looking up at the dark ceiling a mere inches from his face and forced himself to ask Micah.   

"Is my...I mean...are we boring?  Irial and I?  Our relationship?" Cris inquired, voice quivering.   

"You and _Irial_?"  Dominic balked, reappearing from the depths of his bunk.   

Even Micah looked lost, "What are you on about?"   

"He's...I mean we're..." Cris swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat, the sickening feeling in his stomach overwhelming him again.  His eyes prickled painfully, vision going blurry with unshed tears, "I knew it would be hard, but we haven't been talking..."   

"At _all_?" Micah demanded incredulously.   

Cris shrugged and continued, forcing his breathing to remain even so he didn't devolve into having a panic attack; they'd been happening on occasion with increasing frequency since Irial had started to put worlds of distance between them, "He's been pulling away, and it's just...are we done?"   

The finality of the word startled the room into silence.   

"You and Irial?" Dominic repeated.   

"Are you mad?" Micah finished for Dominic.   

Huffing out a humorless laugh, Cris shook his head, "No talking, no texting, no Tweeting or Skyping or snapchat... _nothing_."  His eyes went blurry and wiped at them furiously, shaking his head, "And, I mean, the partying and the drinking and _fucking this_."   

Spinning his laptop around to show Micah the photo, Cris pulled his knees up to his chest and focused on his breathing, trying to get it together while Micah just balked at the image, recoiling, face an utter question mark of just how the hell _that_ could _happen_.  Outraged and furious, Micah looked up at Cris, "What the hell is this?"   

Dominic craned his neck to get a glimpse, and Cris looked between the two of them, emotionless and spent, eyes probably rimmed in that telltale red that said he was about two seconds away from an absolute breakdown.  Micah showed him the laptop screen, and Dominic just blinked three times like he was trying to wake himself up from a terrible dream, which is how Cris had felt for the last four months when everyone had said that he was being overdramatic and overreacting about the obvious downward spiral of his boyfriend.  Too bad his life was so out of control and painful that he couldn't bring himself to even be smug about being right.   

Irial breaking down with just as much as Cris was certainly wasn't anything that should be applauded.   

"This is a picture of him _snogging_ that fetus actor," Dominic said slowly, shocked, eyes shooting to Cris.   

Cris blinked back tears and nodded, lips curling into a humorless smile, "Yeah, and I _want_ to be upset about it but...like...I _can't_ because he's devolving or whatever with the drinking and partying and ignoring me and blowing me off like I can't do maths and he's not utterly predictable; I _know_ he's home.  And, whatever, it's my Iri; it's not serious I'm sure _nothing_ even happened."   

Both Dominic and Micah look incredulous, but Cris just shook his head.  He knew Irial better than almost anyone.  It hurt to see Irial snogging _anyone_ and hurt to see the whole world talk about it and hating him for it, but Cris knew that Irial had almost no impulse control when he was as smashed as that, knew Irial well enough to know that he didn't _argue_.  He analyzed a situation, came up with the best possible solution that ensured everyone came out with the least amount of damage, and acted on it without consulting anybody who should probably be involved in the conversation; he didn't talk, didn't argue, didn't plan.  Irial _acted_ , and he had almost no coping mechanisms behind cold silence, repression, and...well...partying and drinking.  Cris got him; naturally, he still wanted to break this and punch someone, preferably Charles Beck who was pretending to be straight and, therefore, had no business kissing other people's drunk boyfriends at bars but Cris wasn't _angry_.  He was depressed and heartbroken and terrified that _that_ would be Irial's way of telling Cris that they were done, that the only person Cris could ever picture ever getting or loving so completely would freeze him out and cut him off and break up with him via a picture of him and some annoying closeted former child star snogging when he was drunk that was on the cover of every rag in existence.   

Cris was already halfway to a complete breakdown; he barely even managed basic human functions when he wasn't either in rehearsals or writing or on stage.  He could smell the breakup coming but he didn't know why or what he'd done so wrong that Irial was killing both of them because he just couldn't stand to even _talk_ to him anymore.  Breaking up without an explanation, without being able to look Irial in the eye and just...whatever, he didn't even know, but he'd end up checked into a psychiatric hospital after shaving his head like Britney or something equally as maudlin.   

"That doesn't make it alright," Micah exploded.   

Cris flinched before rolling his eyes and trying to express to Micah what the _hell_ was going on.  It wasn't like he had no self-respect; he just didn't focus on the fact that he'd sort of been cheated on since it was just a symptom of a whole bigger problem that Irial would be beating himself up about whenever he managed to be alert enough in his hangover to see the Twitter backlash, "I don't _care_ about the guy because it was _nothing_.  He was _nothing_ except a stupid kiss that Irial probably let happen in his Tequila-induced haze because he's running away from his real problems which is _me_ ," Cris's breath hitched, a cold, numb feeling spreading through him as he continued, the tears finally managing to defy his best effort, leaking out to run down over his cheek, "Us. Our relationship."   

Dominic just shook his head, dazed, "Yours and Irial's?"   

"Yes!" Cris fumed, glaring at Dominic, "Why do you keep _asking_ that?"   

Micah gave Cris a long look while Dominic admitted like it was obvious, "Because it's _you and Irial_.  If you two stop being _CrispinandIrial_ I'm going into the priesthood and teaching that the only truly, unconditionally eternal loving relationship one can have is with God."  Cris laughed, rolling his eyes as tears ran down his cheeks; Dominic sighed, "I knew you were worried but...are you alright?"   

People had been asking him that since this whole mess began, and he'd been getting more and more withdrawn from any kind of activity that required any sort of energy or effort from him.  Even interviewers and fans had picked up on his mood never mind the Crispian/Crisial shippers that didn't even know who to side with or whether to be supportive or cry; Cris couldn't decide either.  He'd taken to actually getting involved in their Tumblr forums, most oftentimes to defend Irial though he wanted to just be like the shippers and be pissed off with Irial, but he couldn't, understood his boyfriend too well for that.  Instead, he called and text and sent pictures like Irial was still _there_ , to let him know that _Cris_ was still there.  It was a damn good thing his Tumblr was anonymous because it had basically become a depressing shrine to Irial and what they'd been before over the last four months, which was probably a breach of contract that would end in them suing the whole band...fuck if he signed any contract again that didn't have his family's lawyer's stamp of approval.   

Dominic, though, was the first person who'd asked with genuine, informed concern.  That wasn't asking if he was alright to work, alright to perform, alright to talk.  Dominic was genuinely asking if Cris was surviving his epic world implosion; for the first time, Cris answered honestly, sucking in a jagged, shaking breath.   

"No," Cris laughed humorlessly, shaking his head, "I need him to tell me what's going on.  I don't think I'm _ready_ to lose Irial.  I think I would lose it a little bit."   

Micah and Dominic glanced at each other with worried looks on their faces before Dominic shrugged, "I think so too."   

"Comforting," Micah grumbled, and Cris snorted, smiling slightly, grateful that he at least had friends that could pull him back from the brink if only for a moment.   

"Have you tried calling him?" Deirdre, one boys' sound techs, interred from where she was sitting further down the bus, trying to pretend like she wasn't eavesdropping as she sprawled across a booth, munching n a power bar and playing Flo on her mobile.   

Benji peeked his head out of his bunk, looking over at Cris across from him to Deirdre and back, sighing, "He calls and texts him _all the time_ , which is why no one realized it was as serious as it actually is."   

"He doesn't answer you _at all_?" Micah demanded like he hadn't already asked that.   

Cris brushed the tears off his cheeks and shook his head, "No not since...I don't mid June?"   

"A _month_ ago?" Micah demanded.   

Benji and Dominic traded wary looks, and Dominic said slowly, "Are you sure he still knows..."   

Narrowing his eyes on them, Cris said vehemently, "He wouldn't do to me.  I don't know what happened between us, alright, but I _know_ Irial.  He _wouldn't_ just shut me out and move on like I'm nothing.  Like _we_ were nothing."   

The boys all looked at each other as if silently debating whether or not Cris was living on a prayer as opposed to actual realistic rationale.  Cris shook his head and bit his lip; Benji sighed and shook his head, "Why do you call him and text him so much, Crissy?"   

Cris offered him a wane smile and confessed, "Because he listens to them.  And he reads them."   

Benji shook his head sadly, "You can't know that. He could just be deleting them."   

"He doesn't," Cris replied firmly before continuing, "and I _know_ he reads the texts because he turned on the function on his phone that tells me when and if he read each message I sent."   

"Don't you think it's time you let him go?" Micah asked gently.   

"I _can't_ ," Cris admitted.   

"You've been having panic attacks, mate," Dominic said softly, and Cris looked up at him sharply, surprised, "I've noticed."   

"Panic attacks?" Micah demanded before shaking his head, "He's been ignoring you knowing you're having panic attacks about this shit?"   

Silence, and Cris bit his lip, eyes trailing along the dark wood of the bunk to the ceiling, still wet with unshed tears.  He'd neglected to tell Irial about the panic attacks for two reasons: what if he only called because Cris needed him and then disappeared when he didn't anymore?  What if he didn't care at all?   

"He doesn't _know_?" Dominic balked, shaking his head and looking to Micah.   

"Are you _kidding_ me?" Micah demanded.   

Benji looked sick and murmured, "He's going to kill us.  What's _wrong_ with you, Cris?"   

"Call him," Micah ordered.  Cris frowned, confused, and Micah picked up Cris's mobile, holding it out to him with a stormy expression on his face and repeated, "Call Irial and tell him what this bullshit is doing to you.  Now."   

Cris eyed the phone with trepidation before acquiescing, taking it gingerly from Micah's fingers.  It was probably absolutely self-deprecating that he despite all this drama he'd kept the picture of him and Irial as his lock screen and Marius and Irial as his home screen, but he'd done it nonetheless, especially since between the zip-drive of his memories of his life with Irial, the pictures saved onto his phone, and the tabloids that kept printing pictures of Irial being a drunk pre-relationship Irial, that was all Cris got to see of him.   

Fingers shaking and on the verge of another panic attack, Cris dialed Irial's number while the boys started whispered amongst each other quietly.  He pressed the phone to his ear with a sigh, waiting for the dial tone to run out so he could leave the last message he ever wanted to love, but it didn't, the line clicking suddenly.  Cris gaped, shocked.   

"Irial?"  Everyone reacted, sitting up straight and looking to Cris who savored the sound of Irial's uneven and shaky breathing on the other end of the line.  He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bunk, waiting for Irial to speak but all he received for his patiently was sniffling and a stifled sob; Cris blinked back tears and shook his head, "Iri?"   

"Crispin," Irial said in his raspy Scouse accent.   

Cris felt his tension abate, "Babe, why are _you_ crying?"   

"I didn't...well, I guess I _did_ , but it was _one_ kiss and nothing else happened.  But I shouldn't have, and I'm _so_ sorry," Irial sounded wrecked.   

"Iri, I know you," Cris assured him, feeling like for the first time in a long time he could breath properly, "I know."  Irial exhaled raggedly, and Cris bit back the dozens of question he wanted to demand answers to, the pleading for Irial to talk to him and tell him what went wrong, the promises that he can fix what he broke and they could do this together, that he'd find away around his management and make them okay.  He couldn't do that over the phone, needed Irial right in front of him where he couldn't run away and check out, closing himself off the way he could and _did_ with distance between them, "Can...I know we're not..." Cris trailed off and ran his hand through his hair, voice wavering, "can you come here for a couple of days?  I just...I miss you, and I need to _talk_ to you."   

The silence stretched between them, and Cris drew in a breath ready to repeat the question when Irial said slowly, carefully, "Crispin."   

"Iri, _please_ , I need this.  _We_ need this," Cris pressed, heart pounding furiously.   

Irial sighed, "I...yeah, we do.  Where are you going to be this weekend?"   

Despite the ominous, hollow edge to his voice, Cris still shot up, scrambling for his laptop to check his schedule because at that point the promise of seeing Irial was almost as necessary as the surety Cris felt that he wouldn't like the consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another depressing chapter...and btw I'm like 100% that Justin Bieber released all those "stolen files the public was never meant to see" from his laptop so that he could get publicity for his single (I have a VERY low opinion of him). The two songs in Cris's tweets are Uncover by Zara Larsson (amazing song that I found in a Larry video...they play excellent songs in those videos) and What's Killing You by Helena Hunt (she's from the show Chasing Nashville and totally should have won a recording contract but whatever it's the music industry and is entirely looks driven and she looks like a back country chick who plays the banjo which is exactly what she is)...excuse my rant.


	31. "Siberia" Backstreet Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things come to a head...there's a lot of unexpected tears...moral of the story: don't piss of Harry because it doesn't end well

To: irialdorian@gmail.com.uk  
CC: rosieireland@gmail.com; cherrietayberry@gmail.com.uk; haroldpotter6999@gmail.com.uk  
From: crossesoflead@gmail.com.uk  
Subject: Flight Reservations  
I know you said you'd book a flight, but I just needed to be sure so I went and did it.  Flight's on British Airways, departs at 6:13 from Heathrow and lands in Dubai 9:58 (UAE time naturally).  Its 6hrs and 45min so you can catch up on your sleep.  I'm going to go now because I'm trying to behave and not say how excited I am to see you, to have you in the same country let alone the same city because apparently we're broken and something happened that I don't understand, but I AM excited and nervous and ecstatic and terrified.  I've missed you ridiculously.  You're my best friend and I'm still so in love you so...yeah  
Sorry for going off  
Crispin  
  
 **Text message from Rosie to Irial**  
 **Rosie** : do you think he realized he cc'd the rest of your flt party in that?  
 **Irial** : No. He's not the best with email.  
 **Rosie** : Are you ready for this?  
 **Irial** : I have to be.  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
About to visit UAE with @rosieposie @HaroldBSterling @Cherrie_TA #ItsEarly #ImExhausted  
  
 **Crisial Updates (@CrisialUpdates)**  
@DorianII is going to UAE where @breakingfourth is performing this weekend #DorianPleaseFixThis #sorrynotsorry #LetsGetItDone  
  
 **Breaking Fourth (@breakingfourth)**  
Salutations Unites Arab Emirates, nice to meet you  
  
 **Benji Irving (@BenjiDIrving)**  
Weird stuff gets written when @Nic_Kinsey updates @breakingfourth  
  
 **Micah Cross (@MC_Cross)**  
French breakfast waterside in UAE with @Cris_Emerson @Nic_Kinsey @BenjiDIrving  
  
 **Dominic Kinsey (@Nic_Kinsey)**  
Pancakes, maple syrup, bananas and hazelnuts because today is going to be a big day #FingersCrossed  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
"The basis of optimism is sheer terror."

* * *

In retrospect, Irial should have realized this was going to be a total disaster...Rosie clearly did.   

Rosie had come over mere minutes after Irial had sent her a text message asking if she wanted to go to Dubai over the weekend; while she was never one to turn down a travel experience, she'd known something wasn't good immediately.  When she'd arrived at Cris and Irial's flat to find him drunk in the living room surrounded by pictures of him and Crispin, Marius watching him warily from the loveseat, and a huge bottle of wine already three quarters of the way empty, the whole story had simply spilled out...or the _plan_ anyway because even beyond drunk he had some sort of self-preservation.   

Her immediate reaction had been simply not to go to Dubai...like that would keep Irial and Crispin's relationship.  It needed to be over so she'd agreed to go as moral support, then brought Harry so that Harry could be _hers_.  Cheryl had tagged along when Harry suggested that dropping hints about Micah being spotted with a girl around the same time as Irial would be the next step in slowly introducing their relationship via PR expressway...Irial thought they just wanted to make sure someone else could help control Irial if he lost it while on the trip.   

What really threw him over the edge was the Blind Gossip article that was _clearly_ about him and Crispin, how they'd been dating and Irial was going to the UAE to end their relationship because he was into Charles Beck.   

First of all, Irial wanted to do this properly and without it tainted by dumbass bullshit like _that_.  The only reason he hadn't turned Rosie into a pitbull to find that admin fucker was because Crispin never believed a word of that site anyway even if their shippers had their doubts.   

Secondly, the idea that _anyone_ could be tempting enough to steal Irial from Crispin was not only absurd but downright ludicrous.  He and Charles had, at some point between several Tequila shots and _way_ too much Scotch, managed to exchange numbers and had had irregular contact after that night, but closet Charlie was a) _closeted_ (which is exactly why Irial was going through all this heartbreak with Crispin in the first place) and b) massively into his own best friend.   

Whatever, Irial was not looking for another boyfriend, wouldn't be until he managed not to feel like he lost his whole life in some kind of freak _Series of Unfortunate Events_ magnitude fire.   

Instead, Irial spent the whole flight trying not to get friendly with his barf bag and downing every ginger ale and cracker package that Rosie set down in front of him.  He was also listening to Crispin's depressing iTunes playlist that might as well have been titled "I Smell A Breakup And Am Upset About It", which would have been accurate on both their parts, which is why Irial had commandeered it as well.  Harry had given him a long look and shaken his head, murmuring about how both of them had become maudlin and why was he friends with drama like this.   

Rosie and Cheryl both smacked him for that comment...odd seeing as how usually it was Rosie making them.   

The entire ride from the airport Irial had to psyche himself up.  He could do this.  He _had_ to do this.  This was best for both of them.  Crispin couldn't live a lie forever, deserved better than having to be ashamed of who he was...someday he wouldn't be, but for now, the healthiest thing for both of them would be to just... _not_.  Irial was comfortable with himself, had been for a long time and couldn't let _one_ man, no matter how much he loved him, revert him back to his early teenage years of hiding something that meant so much to him, something that was a part of him, something that helped make him the man that he was.  Even if it didn't feel like it, this was for the best.  He could do this, needed to do this so that they could both be happy and live their lives without feeling ashamed of a part of themselves.   

Irial tried to focus on the good times, remember everything about Crispin that he'd fallen in love with, realizing even if he'd known it would end this way, he still wouldn't take it a single moment of it back.  For a year, Irial had Crispin.  He'd had everything he could ever want from a partner and a friend.  He'd had a home in what felt like forever.  He'd had a family that really felt like his.  He'd had a fantastic friendship, amazing sex, and a once in a lifetime relationship.  He'd been open and vulnerable and hadn't had it shoved back in his face.  Irial exhaled a shaky breath; he doubted either he or Crispin were ready for this, but they had to be.  He'd spent four and a half months draining all his resistance, slowly killing himself with this, Irial was, at the very least, ready for this slow, soul sucking rollercoaster to be over.   

Rolling his shoulders back, Irial steeled himself, throwing the backpack he'd brought as his only piece of luggage over his shoulder and following his friends from the car to the hotel.  Cheryl was rooming with her boyfriend, naturally, and Irial had opted into a room with Rosie and Harry; it had never even been a question, especially as he seriously doubted he'd be staying long anyway...if you could call two days 'long'.   

Irial dropped his backpack on the couch, following it and collapsing, sinking into the cushions with a sigh; Rosie threw her duffel bag on the bed, sitting on the edge of it.  She pushed a wayward curl behind her ear and watched Irial silently, neither of them moving or speaking until Harry had retreated to the bathroom, closing the door behind him with a decided click and leaving them alone.  He eyed his best friend warily, and she pursed her lips and shook her head with a sigh.   

"Cheryl texted me," Rosie began carefully.  Irial raised an eyebrow, "The boys want us all to go do a lunch thing."   

Irial said nothing.   

Rosie sighed, "Irial...I'm...you have to come.  They all want to see you.  Cheryl said that Micah says that Cris _needs_ to see you.  I think you know him well enough to know that too.  She said that it sounded imperative."   

"Yeah, what else are the two old ladies gossiping about over bridge?"   

"Irial," Rosie replied curtly, and he rolled his eyes, recognizing how seriously she was.  He was just irritated and terrified and growing more and more morose and mournful by the minute.  "I want to know if you can make it through a sixty minute lunch without blurting out that you want to end the best thing that ever happened to you, especially when he spent the last four and half months drifting out in the middle space with no lifeline because you were hundreds of miles away."   

"I..." Irial hesitated, sighing and running a shaking hand through his hair.  He wanted to say yes, but he wasn't entirely sure that he'd wouldn't throw himself at Crispin and attach to him like a barnacle, begging for forgiveness and swearing he'd let go of his self-respect if he could just have Crispin, even if only at certain times, at certain places, in the shadows where their relationship had lived so far.  It didn't matter, though; he got that Crispin _needed_ to see him because the fact that they were in the same country, same city, same _hotel_ and _not_ in each other's space, not touching, not looking at each other, talking to each other, sharing those quick glances that contained whole _monologues_ without ever saying anything felt so inexplicably _wrong_ that it was nauseating.  He exhaled shakily and said with as much certainty as he could muster, "yeah, I think so."   

Rosie clearly didn't, but the door to the bathroom opened, Harry exiting looking refreshed and asking if they were ready to go.  The answer was no, but Irial got up anyway.        

* * *

"God, I fucking hate you!" Was all the warning Cris got before a redheaded figure hurled itself into Micah's arms, stopping him in his tracks and nearly causing a head-on boyband collision.   

Benji pulled him out of the way while Dominic sighed and rubbed his head, glancing sideways at Micah and Cheryl, "You know, people are walking here?"   

"Really?"  Cheryl raised an eyebrow, "All I see are babies and lips flapping, shit-talking."   

They glared at each other for a minute before Dominic laughed, kissing Cheryl on the cheek in greeting.  Benji shook his head and murmured, "So weird."   

Cris couldn't agree, was too busy being keyed up about Irial being here to really be able to focus anything other than how excited he was.  More greetings were exchanged between the boys and Harry and Rosie, joined at the hip as usual, just as he and Irial had been...but he wasn't thinking about things like that.  Harry didn't bother trying to talk to Cris, simply raising an eyebrow and giving a nod in welcome while Rosie stood at the end of the bar, watching Cris carefully, arms crossed over her chest.   

Where was Irial because Micah had said he'd be here?   

That was the whole point of eating in the hotel anyway.   

Harry joined Rosie, and she whispered something to him, eyes still on Cris.  Harry looked Cris over and nodded; Cris frowned, "What?"   

"A little keyed up?"  Harry asked archly.   

Rosie said bluntly, "You look like shit.  Have you been sleeping?"   

Cris shrugged; of course he had...just not very much, not very often, and _never_ uninterrupted by nightmares he couldn't remember that left him cry silently and sweating, coldly and profusely.  He played with the pendant of his necklace; Rosie's eyes caught on it.  She quirked an eyebrow and glanced at Harry who just hummed thoughtfully but said nothing, eyes drifting up to the ceiling with a thoughtful expression as the rest of the friends ordered drinks and began catching up.   

Rocking back on his heels, Cris bit his lip, opening his mouth to ask when Harry cut him off, "He came."   

"Right," Cris blushed and nodded, ducking his head and playing with his fingers, heart pounding.   

"Shit," Rosie cursed suddenly, and Cris's head shot up when she moved swiftly away from the group who'd gone silent, "Iri?"  She walked over to him and put a hand on his arm where he'd stopped, frozen a few yards away from everyone, eyes wide and focused on Cris whose heart pounded even faster than it had been before, a feeling of dread spreading through him.   

Irial looked...wrong.  His feathery wisps of honey-colored hair had grown out longer than Irial usually liked it, falling into his eyes; he was unusually clean shaven with the beginnings of dark circles under his eyes.  His Les Miserables hoodie hung off his body, a size too big when it had fit perfectly only four months ago.  He was too pale and too thin and too...not Irial, all the light and mischief and laughter that usually resided in his eyes suspiciously absent.  Instead, he just looked washed out and tired, right down to his plain blue slouch skinny jeans that he only wore to clean or to lounge around their flat—and _never_ in the presence of company—and a pair of hideous moccasins he'd bought as a joke when they'd gone to Arizona for New Years.   

Swallowing, Irial shook his head, eyes still on Cris even as he answered Rosie, "I thought I could do this, but I just can't."   

Cris's whole face fell, heart and stomach twisting painfully, tears welling in his eyes, and Irial winced, pursing his lips and grimacing.  He swallowed again, shook his head and took a step back, but Cris just _couldn't_ , "Irial...I...what?"   

"You knew what this was," Irial whispered, nodding with a sad expression on his face.   

Eyes watering dangerously and a series of broken sobs threatening to explode from him, Cris ran a trembling hand through his hair and crossed the distance between them, completely unconcerned about the fact that they were doing this in a bar in a hotel during lunchtime, all their friends standing barely a hairsbreadth away from them.  He huffed out, voice quivering, "I just...like what I did I do?"   

Irial looked stricken and shook his head, "Nothing, Crispin, _you_ didn't do anything."   

Nodding slowly, Cris drew in a quick, stuttered breath, the sobs already rising and the tears threatening to spill, "So...um..." Cris looked up at the ceiling and bit his bottom lip to stop it from adding to the list of things trembling or churning or just fucking rebelling against him, "So you're just...I mean, you're not...we, um..."  Irial shook his head, eyes rimmed in red; Cris couldn't even get the sentence out his voice so tight and stomach twisting so painfully.   

"That's..." Irial trailed off and took a step closer to Cris who ached to close the minuscule distance between them, fists clenching at his side so he didn't.  Tears leaked out of his eyes, and he wiped it away furiously while Irial lowered his voice, taking a long deep breath, "Of course, I love you, Crispin, that's never been a question and that's never gonna change."   

Cris laughed humorlessly, well aware that it was more of an incredulous sob, "Then _why_?  I don't understand.  I'm _trying_ to, alright?"  He dried his eyes with his sleeve, putting his hand over his mouth to quiet the sob threatening to escape, and Irial shifted uncomfortably looking dangerously close to crying as well.  Which... _good_...he needed something from Irial, didn't understand why Irial was doing this, why he wouldn't just...he didn't know.  "I'm trying to...it's _you_ , Iri.  I _always_ get you, but I don't...what _happened_ because I just...everything good, everything was...we were...it had to have been _me_ , right?  Something _I_ did.  Why won't you just tell me...like what happened that you think we _can't_ fix it, that _I_ can't fix it?"   

"Crispin, stop," Irial insisted, eyes wet with tears Cris _knew_ he'd never shed in front of so many people.  Irial ran a hand through his hair, hood falling back, hand shaking; he ran a hand over his face and shook his head, "You _can't_ fix this.  _We_ can't fix this.  _This_ isn't healthy.  Leaving...this is what's best for both of us."   

Balking, Cris shook his head, "You...I mean... _what_?  I thought...I mean..."   

Irial shook his head and steeled himself, "No, stop, this isn't your fault."  Cris was shaking, brushing away tears with his hand and feeling sick.  "It _isn't_ , but I can't live like this, Crispin."  Cris froze, breath catching.  "And neither can you.  We...I've been down that road before Crispin, and it's not healthy.  I'm going to hate me and then I'm going to hate you for making me feel like that...and you're a bad liar and I know you love me, I _know_ that, but sometimes love just isn't enough.  And I don't want to hate you," Irial said quietly, taking a deep and pressing his hand to his mouth to keep from crying while Cris just shook his head, dumbstruck.  "I thought I could...I don't know what I thought.  I knew that you _couldn't_ , but...it's fine that you're not ready, and I thought that I could wait for your management to be but it's _you_ and...relationships like this don't work.  I'm not...I can't live in the closet, and I can't live feeling like I'm a dirty little secret and should be ashamed of who I am.  You shouldn't have to lie, and I shouldn't have to feel like this, and that's it.  I can't wait for you to okay with that part of yourself."   

"Wait...what?"  Harry demanded from behind, and he could feel Harry's gaze swing to him.   

Cris's breathing escalated quickly, and he shook his head, pressing a hand to his mouth so he either wouldn't cry or throw up...he wasn't sure which.  He was so close to hyperventilation, and Irial was already backing away from the whole thing, but this...he couldn't just walk away now, right?  They couldn't end like this...over a misunderstanding Harry had told him months ago to correct that he hadn't because he thought for sure Irial would walk away from him for being stupid and putting them in a situation where Irial was treated exactly like he was a dirty little secret until Cris found away around it.  "That's not..." Cris could barely get two words out between the tightness of his throat, his near hyperventilation, and his tears, "Irial's that's not what this is.  That's not what you _are_.  Please."   

Irial shook his head and looked heavenward, closing his eyes, a tear sliding down his cheek; he exhaled and looked at Cris, every bit as torn and broken about this whole thing as Cris felt, "I'm sorry, but we can't keep doing this."  He turned and walked away.   

"Irial," Cris shook his head, taking a step to go after his quickly retreating figure when Harry caught his arm and shook his head.   

"Don't.  Let him have some space," Harry cautioned, irate.   

Rosie threw Harry an unreadable look; Cris looked from Harry's face to Irial, uncertain, "It's _Iri_ , I don't know if that's—"   

"Cris," Harry said sternly, and Cris tore his gaze away from where Irial had disappeared from sight, sighing, biting his bottom lip, and nodding reluctantly.   

He turned, the feelings of being lost, raw, and utterly broken most having showed on his face, because three pairs of arms suddenly were embracing him, holding him up as he just bawled like his whole world had just been torn from him.        

* * *

Cris pounded on the door anxiously.  He'd waited through rehearsals and through the show and during the interview they'd done afterwards for one of the UAE's teen magazines.  He'd gone back to his room and showered and changed into a pair of his favorite jeans, worn and soft, and Irial's oversized Middlesex hoodie that he'd stolen and wore probably too often because it smelled like him still.  Fuck Harry, he was done waiting; he knew that Irial talked himself into stupidity and cut himself out of the situation when given space and fuck if Harry didn't know that too.   

When there wasn't a quick enough response, Cris pounded on the door again, agitated and strung out; the door was yanked open by Rosie who froze when she saw him, running a shaking hand through her hair.  Cris started talking before she had a chance to, "I know Harry said to give him space, but—"   

"Cris," Rosie cut him off, shaking her head; she took a deep breath and Cris's stomach twisted painfully.  "You shouldn't have listened to Harry, that ass.  I don't know what you did to piss _Harry_ off, but he's gone."   

"Harry?"  Cris asked meekly, though he knew already.  Rosie just bit her bottom lip and shook her head.  Cris's heart pounded, achy and painful, like it was being squeezed with a fist; he took a shaky breath and ran a trembling hand through his hair, eyes watering, "How long?"   

Rosie shook her head and laughed humorlessly, "I don't know.  I was here earlier, but Cheryl needed dinner so we went out for some but Iri didn't feel up to it.  Harry and I went sightseeing; I was gonna come back here, but Harry said Irial needed some time alone and where was he gonna go?  None of us thought he'd just _leave_ , but we got back and his backpack wasn't here.  He's gone.  I'm so sorry."   

Cris just froze and nodded.   

He wanted to jump on a plane and go after him and explain and fuck his management and his career.   

He wanted to curl up in a ball somewhere and cry about how stupid decisions that people made years ago still come back to bite you in the ass.   

Actually...Cris really just wanted Irial.  It was _that_ simple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter just wholly pissed me off to write, and it's pretty pissy for me to cut off for that right now when I already wrote the next chapter, but I'm so close to be done with the writing that I need to focus on that for the rest of the night...so I will. Anyway, the quote from Cris's Tweet is (naturally) from Oscar Wilde (who has the best fucking quotes I swear). And yes, the song I listened to while writing this chapter was Siberia by the Backstreet Boys...I'm not even a little bit a ashamed of that...I have eclectic musical tastes.


	32. "Unconditionally" Katy Perry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McDonalds became the relationship United Nations (but lacks sufficient coffee) and there's a valiant revival of shippers.

**Dominic Kinsey (@Nic_Kinsey)**  
In the words of @rosieposie...well that escalated quickly -.-  
  
 **Irish Rose (@rosieposie)**  
@HaroldBSterling better start running now #ImGonnaKillThisBitch  
  
 **Cherrie Taylor (@Cherrie_TA)**  
@breakingfourth had a great show tonight but I'm giving all my love to @Cris_Emerson #HeNeedsItMost #LoveYouBabe  
  
 **Micah Cross (@MC_Cross)**  
@Cherrie_TA so what? No love for me then?  I see how it is  
  
 **Cherrie Taylor (@Cherrie_TA)**  
@MC_Cross one helping of love at a time, what you think love is infinite or some hippie shit? #Selfish  
  
 **Micah Cross (@MC_Cross)**  
@Cherrie_TA you like it ;)  
  
 **Benji Irving (@BenjiDIrving)**  
It's been a weird day...sleep it off  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
We can never outrun our past, hold on to the present, or know with certainty what's to come  
  
 **Liza Diem (@drama_mama73)**  
@Cherrie_TA says @Cris_Emerson is sad. @rosieposie is pissed @HaroldBSterling. @MC_Cross is flirting with Cherrie. @Nic_Kinsey calls foul. And @DorianII is MIA methinks @BenjiDIrving speaks truth  
  
 **J & G (@therealJG)**  
Tell me @Cris_Emerson is not a single pringle again #Crisial #Crispian #Corian #DontDoThisToMeDammit  
  
 **Sailing with Crisial (@deannasdefense)**  
I will believe nothing until @DorianII subtly confirms @therealJG #NotGonnaHappen #JustARoughPatch #Crisial  
  
 **< 3 Micah Cross<3 (@nvr4gether)**  
Um...what if everyone's been pissed @DorianII all this time but it's @Cris_Emerson fault? O.O #WereBadPeople #sorry #Crisial  
  
 **Its always the quiet ones (@benjiboo_b4xx)**  
Have fun mourning the bromance you delusional bitches sank #Crisial #CrisialIsFake #FuckingCrisialShippers  
  
 **Holden Ireland (@holdtheirish)**  
@rosieposie @Ariella_Em106...these trends though O.0  
  
 **Ariella Emerson (@Ariella_Em106)**  
@holdtheirish wtf is this bullshit #MakeItStop  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
I'll be here waiting hoping praying that this light will guide you home. When you're feeling lost I'll leave my love hidden in the sun

* * *

There was about a twenty second lag time between the Tweet being sent and Cris's phone pinging to show it had been received, five seconds between unlocking the mobile and going to Twitter, ten seconds to read it, and another ten before he sat bolt upright in the bed where he may or may not have been languishing his misfortunes in life by listening to Adele, Emeli Sande, and Taylor Swift while vigorously downing a bottle of vodka he'd picked up in Poland for this exact occasion.  Whatever.   

All in all, it took a minute for Cris's whole life to get zapped with a 100 volt cow prodder of hope that had him spending the last fifteen seconds yanking on his brimmed Chicago Blackhawks beanie and a pair of flip-flops he felt pretty confident belonged to Benji, grabbing only his cell phone and keycard before he sprinted out the door, demanding to know the nearest McDonalds at the front desk because Irial was predictable (he loved fatty, greasy, cheap comfort food when he was upset...and alcohol...and sex) and where else would he go in the United Arab Emirates?   

The nearest McDonalds, as it turned out, was far away, but Cris was so keyed up that the twenty block trek at nearly midnight seemed way too quick because _what if he wasn't there?_ What if Irial breaking his "why the fuck do people Tweet fucking music lyrics instead of fucking just _saying_ shit" proclamation was just him being a poetic shithead?  What if Cris had gotten his hopes up, breathing right for the first time since almost five months ago, long before he'd left and Irial had slowly started to wean them both off each other (like _that_ was possible, no posh rehab clinic in Beverly Hills was capable of _that_ ), and long before Cris had shoved his boyfriend—ex-boyfriend, he had to remember that now, unfortunately—out of his anonymous radio DJ closet, for it all to have just been _another_ misunderstanding?   

Cris reasoned that despite a breakup and a painfully slow, resisted separation, Cris knew Irial pretty well.  Everything Cris said on Twitter usually had a second meaning unless he was Tweeting it to Irial, and everything on Irial's was usually just dribble commentary about shit that happened because he was transparent and an exhibitionist (the only good thing to come out of Cris's forced closet was that he couldn't encourage Irial's enjoyment of semi-public sex) and an entertainer.  When he posted things that fell into the category 'vague', they _always_ had a deeper meaning because Irial did 'vague' about as well as a sledgehammer or a bulldozer or a goddamned wrecking ball, which wasn't to say he wasn't a good liar but simply that subtlety wasn't his forte.   

In the end, he stopped short when he saw the mustard-yellow (because fuck Irial it was _not_ yellow-gold) arches that united almost every country on the planet before sprinting, yanking open the door, eyes immediately sweeping the interior, chest heaving like he'd just run a marathon instead of across the street.   

Irial spotted him first, standing up and staring at him with wide, sad eyes that would make Mort from Madagascar proud, and there was barely a pause before Cris said a silent, mental fuck you to his management and publicity and possible cameras lurking, choosing to catch Irial when he launched himself at Cris with so much force that Cris stumbled backwards but still managed to steady him, one arm wrapping around his waist probably too tightly, fingers slipping under the fabric of his shirt to curl against the soft skin while his other hand clenched in his hair, holding his head firmly to where Irial had buried it in his neck.  He sincerely hoped that no one here knew who he was or cared enough to take pictures; his breathing was returning to normal and everything just seemed to refocus as he pressed his lips to Irial's hairline, thumb skimming over the skin of Irial's waist...the last thing he needed was an epic bitch fit from the management that had driven him to this in the first place.   

"You're too damn skinny, have you been eating?" Cris whispered.   

Irial shrugged, "So are you."   

"I'm not the one who looks like bony from _Warm Bodies_ ," Cris murmured, nosing Irial's temple.   

Snorting, Irial pinched his back, pulling away from Cris; he took a deep breath and looked him up and down before shaking his head and tugging Cris back to the booth he'd been sitting in.  Irial slid into the seat, curling up in the corner and wrapping his hand around a styrofoam cup, tipping his head back to stare up at Cris.  He glanced around the table and noted the absence of... _anything_.   

"Have you been sitting her for—"   

" _Five_ ," Irial said pointedly.   

"—five hours just drinking..." Cris trailed off, taking the cup from it and examining it carefully, "What is this?  It looks tar."   

"Coffee," Irial lamented sadly.   

"You _hate_ coffee, _especially_ black coffee," Cris said incredulously, lingering tension easing as they feel back into their niche.   

Irial huffed, "I needed to stay awake, and they don't have frappes.  Who does that?"   

"Arabia," Cris answered, glancing over to the counter and hesitating.  Irial noted his hesitation but chose not to comment on it.  "I'll be right back.  Stay here."   

Irial softened and nodded, waving him off, a sad smile playing around his lips; Cris sighed, nodding back at him before turning to going to the counter.  He kept his eye on Irial the whole time he was at the register, relieved when he barely seemed to move at all, feet on the seat of the booth, legs tucked up as close to Irial's chest as they could get.  One arm had been thrown over his knees, phone loosely held in his hand, and his elbow resting on the tabletop, chin in the palm of his hands and fingers tapping a pattern on his chin.  There were still dark circles under his eyes and dried tear tracks that he hadn't had time or energy to try to scrub off.  His eyes looked sad but resigned, glassy from tears that he'd already shed, and his face still had that chalky sheen to it, hair falling into his stormy grey eyes and whole body dwarfed by the ridiculous large jumper he was wearing that Cris recognized as his own.  Irial looked a sad, wrecked hot mess from his moccasins to his slouch skinny jeans to his oversized jumpers to the baggy knit beanie that consumed all of his head except the fringe poking out into his eyes and absolutely simultaneously the most beautiful thing that Cris had ever seen.   

He dropped the tray on the table and hesitated on where he should sit, but Irial looked up at him from under his eyelashes questioningly and Cris caved, sliding in beside Irial, scooting closer when Irial threw his legs over Cris's lap, hand and phone resting in his lap.  Cris met and held Irial's gaze both of them relaxing and breathing; Cris felt comfortable enough to rest his hand on Irial's leg, breath stuttering when Irial's grip shifted to drop his mobile in his lap, linking his fingers with Cris's and resting their interlocked hands in his lap, grabbing a fry and popping it in his mouth before Cris told him to.   

"I thought you were gone," Cris began without preamble, eyes on Irial and Cris's interlocked fingers; Irial said nothing, "I thought you were leaving me. Rosie said you were."   

The 'breaking up' part of 'leaving me' hadn't been a question.  Cris had known that, but his biggest fear was coming back from tour to an empty house with no trace that Irial had ever lived there.   

"That's the thing, though," Irial said slowly, a humorless laugh when he'd finished one of the chicken nuggets under Cris's watchful eye, "I _tried_.  I got about as far as the curb outside before I realized I don't even think I can."   

"Good."   

A slight smile tugged at Irial's lips as he stole the coke from Cris's fingers, shaking his head, "That's not _good_.  I'm so reliant on you that I can barely even function.  I should leave, but I _literally_ couldn't go.  I got _nauseous_.  Leaving you turned into an actual, physical ailment.  Fuck, it took you being gone nearly five months for me to be able to break-up with you."   

Cris scoffed, "Yeah?  I'm so obsessed with you that I asked you to come _knowing_ you'd break up with me."  Irial swallowed, narrowing his eyes on the food and fingers tightening on Cris's; he squeezed Irial's hand back and continued, "Besides, it may not for you, but it's like...makes _me_ feel better I guess. I about had a heart attack when she said you'd left."  Cris paused and worrying his lip, meeting Irial's shrewd gaze, and admitted, "I'm glad you can't leave me because then what the hell am I supposed to do?  I can't go after you.  I can't just _leave_.  There are people here who rely on me, who need me to be here, and I can't just say my boyfriend's left me, I have to get back to London tonight to go get him back."   

"That's part of why I couldn't leave, you know, because I knew you'd _try_ , and I had to give you a fighting chance even though all I want to do is run and go home and forget I ever met you," Irial whispered, voice hollow.   

Cris flinched and asked in a small voice, heart stopping, "You want to forget you ever met me? Do you..I mean...are we _really_ like...?"   

"I don't think we'll ever be _done_ ," Irial admitted, eyes watering again as he rounded, "Do you have any idea how hard this is?"   

"You think this is easy for me?"   

"Of course not, but you weren't _out_.  You aren't the one being asked to lie again and again and again...mostly because you're shit at lying, which isn't a bad thing, but _I'm_ the one who feels like I'm screaming and no one can hear me."   

"You didn't tell me that," Cris whispered, eyes on Irial's profile.   

Irial smiled coldly and looked over, meeting Cris's gaze, "You knew anyway."   

He'd suspected, knew that as often as he denied to protect Cris, to keep his management off his back, Irial hated doing it, hated the backlash that he got, that the shippers got, hated the rumors and the smart-mouthed comments from people who had no idea what they were talking about.   

"Sort of, not all of it, but I guess I never thought you'd just walk away.  I never thought you'd just give up on us.  On me...I guess I just thought we were worth the bullshit," Cris flinched, hating that he was talking about what they were in past tense, so final...not that they really felt all that final with the familiar weight of Iri's legs thrown across his lap, hand-in-hand, way too in each other's spaces for them to look anything other than involved and intimate.   

"I can't feel like this everyday forever.  I can't turn into Larry Stylinson ridiculousness and miss everything important because we're too busy hiding that there is something important.  I can't grind on Harry at clubs for show or snog closeted actors," Irial sounded exhausted; the food had given him back some color but he still looked so small and melancholy, not unlike Cris but beyond that he looked broken and guilty and miserable, all of which Cris felt as well but Irial was usually so lively, seeing him in pain and upset was just _wrong_.  It left a sour taste in Cris's mouth.   

This was Cris's fault, and he had to be honest.  Maybe before he'd been worried he _could_ lose Irial, but he _would_ anyway if he said nothing; Irial deserved the truth and always had, Cris had just been too scared to give it to him.   

"I wanted to kill both of them, Irial," Cris confessed, shaking his head.  "I scared the shit out of Harry when he came back to your room. I threw a paper weight at him...mostly because he helped you leave but the pictures were a particular factor."   

Irial smiled slightly and shook his head, running his free hand through his hair, head tilting back as if that would somehow keep his tears at bay; he breathed in deeply and exhaled steadily, eyes on the ceiling tiles while his hand gripped Cris's so tightly that his fingers went numb, whispered, "I can't do this."   

"Irial, please, I mean...you can't...what the hell am I supposed to do without you? You can't just leave me," Cris replied, frantic and panicked and terrified, voice small and weak, pleading.   

Irial closed his eyes like he was in pain and shook his head, "Cris..."   

It was the first time he'd said his name since he'd gotten here...and it was wrong.  Irial hadn't called him Cris once in the entire time they'd known each other, "Don't call me that."   

"Crispin," Irial replied, voice quietly, and Cris huffed out a breath, eyes jerking up to meet Irial's, "I love you, and it fucking hurts so much all the time.  I have to lie and hide and sneak around, and it's not fair that I feel like shit every day.  It's not healthy, and I can't do this again."   

Cris shook his head, eyes watering; he'd heard all about Irial's asshole ex and didn't want to go there; pulling in a ragged breath, he forced out the beginning of the truth, no going back, "Iri, please don't.  It's...I _can't_ come out.  I didn't just leave you out there alone, alright? I _didn't_."   

"Crispin."   

"I'm not just lying and bullshitting to keep you here. I've been asking to come out for _months_ ; I know you can't live like this, and I _tried_.  I should have told you, but I just...I didn't want...it's _my_ fault.  And didn't want you to blame me...I didn't want to you to leave me," Cris finished, a self-recriminating and bitter edge to his voice.   

Irial's eyes opened and focused on Cris, unreadable, "What did you do?"   

"It was back when the band first started," Cris blurted in a rush.  "The contract I signed I didn't read it, not really.  My lawyer paraphrased. He worked for Dissident, though, and didn't tell me that there's a part in it that says I can't come out without their permission or they sue Breaking Fourth for breach of contract.  Not just _me_ , the _whole_ band.  I can't do that to the boys, but I mean..." Cris trailed off, swallowing and begging.  "Irial, please don't go. I _need_ you here.  I'm completely in love with you like forever kind of love, like I'm going to lose it and shave my head like Britney if you walk away from me."   

Eyes drifting back up towards the ceiling, Irial remained silent, and Cris shifted nervously, only slightly mollified by the fact that Irial hadn't pulled his hand back.  Cris's gaze never left Irial, heart beating against his ribs furiously, chest tight and stomach churning nervously; Irial finally let out a quiet breath, tension leaving his body as he said, "You should have told me that a long time ago.  Harry told you to, didn't he?  That's why he was so pissed at you."   

It wasn't a question so Cris didn't answer, choosing instead to look down at their clasped hands and whispering, "It's alright if you're...I mean, I'd understand if..."   

"I'm not angry with you," Irial insisted.  Cris said nothing, biting the inside of his cheek until he felt a hand on his chin, tilting his face up to meet Irial's soft gaze, warm on Cris, "I'm not."   

"I'm sorry I screwed everything up," Cris admitted.   

Irial's thumb skimmed over Cris's cheekbone as he shook his head, "You didn't."   

"You're leaving."   

Smiling slightly, Irial shook his head, leaning forward until their faces were barely an inch from each other and promising, "I'm not."  Cris blinked, mouth falling open in surprise and disbelief an embarrassing amount of joy, and Irial continued, "I thought you were ashamed of that part of who you were.  I thought you were hiding it behind your management.  I thought it would be better for both of us to be removed from that kind of a situation before it devolved.  I was wrong.  And you should have told me, but I should have talked to you before doing this to both of us.  You're not..." Irial trailed off, biting his lip and narrowing his eyes, face twisting into an abrupt grimace.  Cris frowned, but Irial shook it off, shaking his head.  "You're everything to me.  And this is killing both of us, and I'm not going to walk away from someone I literally cannot go a day without thinking about and whose texts I read daily and whose voicemails I listen to obsessively because I miss hearing your voice because you were fifteen and signed a stupid contract they had no business presenting you with...when does it expire?"   

Cris shrugged and scowled, "It did after three years, but automatically got renewed when we signed a new five year management contract."   

Irial nodded, looking thoughtful, "So three more years?"  Cris swallowed hard and nodded slowly; Irial gave him a reassuring smile, hand squeezing Cris's, "I can live with that."   

Smiling brilliantly, Cris ignored every bit of media training he'd ever had and closed the distance between them, giving Irial a long deep, if decidedly too-closed mouth a kiss, whispering against his lips, "Thank you for not leaving me."   

Grinning against Cris's lips, Irial gave him another peck, "Thank you for coming after me."   

They sat in the booth for another two hours munching on the fries long after they'd gone cold and "taste like cardboard...cold cardboard" according to Irial, completely at ease, the uncharacteristic tension and gloom that had covered both of them like a shroud disappearing.  Despite how tired they both were, they just breathed each other in, chatting and mouthing to each other the words to songs they liked that came over the speakers.  Cris glanced sideways at Irial as he nibbled on a fry and lip synced to 'Come and Get It' by Selena Gomez, smiling sideways at Cris who poked his cheek so that he wouldn't tempt fate anymore tonight by pressing a kiss to it instead.   

Irial wrinkled his nose, and Cris pulled out his phone.

**Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
I found a lost elf drinking sludge, sitting in the corner wooing me by saying when I'm ready to come and get it #ShouldI #ShouldntI  
  
Irial's phone chimed, and he barely paused in mouthing along enthusiastically to Selena, picking it up and raising an eyebrow, a wide smile splitting across his face as he read the Tweet.  Poking his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, Irial typed quickly, and Cris watched him with a warm smile on his face, a feeling of contentedness settling in his stomach.

**Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
@Cris_Emerson don't judge my drinkage...they don't have frappe :'(   

Cris grinned, doing some quick research before finding the recipe.

**Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@DorianII...found the recipe XD  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
@Cris_Emerson I'll consider you effectively wooed   

"You'd better actually make me one," Irial warned.   

"Well...I'm not barista," Cris prompted, and Irial leaned over and bit his shoulder; Cris laughed, "but we can certainly give it our best shot."  He paused at that, cocking his head and studying Irial with a frown.  Irial quirked an eyebrow, and Cris opened up Instagram, "We're taking a picture because everybody else has put up pictures of us except us.  That's hardly fair."   

Irial rolled his eyes but couldn't keep the smile off his face as moved into the frame, glancing at Cris with a bright smile that was way too affectionate, relieved, and dumbstruck in love, and that Cris responded to by catching his breath and pressing his lips to the corner of Irial's mouth, snapping the picture and grinning impishly at Irial.  He shook his head, still smiling, "You know, you can't put that up."   

"'S alright," Cris screen-shotted the image before trying again, "For real this time, yeah?  Try not to look quite so in love with me."   

"Touché," Irial replied, poking his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, Cris's eyes cutting to him, smile just a tad too affectionate.  Irial raised his eyebrows, and Cris shrugged, posting it despite the obviously suspicious level of affection and how Irial was wearing Cris's jumper and Cris, his university hoodie...their shippers deserved some love anyway.  "I'm exhausted," Irial murmured, pressing his face into the crook of Cris's neck.   

"You ready to go back?" Cris asked quietly.   

Irial hesitated, "I get to stay with you?"   

Cris grinned, "If you want to."   

"I always want to be with you," Irial muttered sleepily.  Cris beamed, a warm feeling spreading through him, as he pressed a kiss into the side of Irial's beanie covered head, heart rate increasing under the feel of Irial's lips curving into a smile against the hollow of his throat a moment before his tongue skimmed along the skin followed by the nip of teeth.  Cris squeezed Irial's hand, never once having released it.

* * *

**Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
Midnight snacks with my elf @DorianII  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
@Cris_Emerson I'm still waiting on my frappe princess barista boy  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@DorianII when you're ready come and get it...:D  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
nanana na @Cris_Emerson we're both too tired for hanky panky tonight lol #SleepyTime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually researched the menu of the McDonalds in the UAE and, no, there are no frappes (which is like ambrosia as far as I am concerned). The song in Irial Dorian's Tweet is When the Darkness Comes by Colbie Caillat. Also, I realize they make up quickly, but I never saw the point in drawing out fight scenes, there's plenty of other drama and problems that come along with having a clandestine relationship still in the middle of the public eye. Acting like mature adults, discovering the importance of communication in a relationship, and being able to forgive is something I really really really push for with my characters unless it's like some massive you done goofed that needs to be drawn out. This one had three chapters of sad face. Enough is enough. They're grown ups not the cast of Vanderpump Rules. I just felt like I needed to share that.


	33. "Carry You" Union J

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pissing off management might just become a sport...Irial enjoys coaching it anyway. Cris really wants a ring and gives Irial a heart attack in front of 9000 people.

To: rosieireland@gmail.com; haroldpotter6999@gmail.com.uk; crossesoflead@gmail.com.uk; dartmoorlittlemermaid@gmail.com.uk; irialdorian@gmail.com.uk  
From: gingeyleprechaun556@gmail.com  
Subject: IM CROSSING THE POND BIOTCHES  
People who received this email like fucking duh,  
I got and accepted an unconditional offer at University of Westminster!!!!! You're looking at a future Westminster international photography major! That being said...who wants a temporary roommate (Rosie and Harry, right? I don't want to live with sex addicts). Speaking of the sort of newlyweds, what the hell happened because it was crazy Breakers were crucifying Crisial shippers who were in a panic all 'RIP Crisial' and depressive 'Irial WHY would you cheat on Crispin?' (Which you so wouldn't) Then you two are all cutesy at McDonalds in civilized Arabia at the crack of dawn...wtf? Are we all good?  
  
 **Chat between Irial, Holden, and Ariella**  
 **irialdorian** : problems...drama...misunderstandings...apocalypse now...and really athletic morning makeup sex. We're good ;D  
 **gingeyleprechaun556** : tmi, iri  
 **irialdorian** : Cris say congrats and welcome to the neighborhood (sort of)  
 **dartmoorlittlemermaid** : Yay! My boo's going to uni with me <3 we're gonna have fun  
 **irialdorian** : I had no idea you knew my sister like that Holden -_-  
 **gingeyleprechaun556** : um, hi Cris...I can explain  
 **irialdorian** : please do  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
So...it's illegal to tattoo here...didn't mean to give the bird at the front desk a heart attack #TheresNoSecretPoliceComing #oops #IStillWantATat  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
Found this sketch Polynesian dude who gives underground tattoos. Don't know, should I? #ThisCouldGoBadly #HeCouldKillMe #ICouldGoToArabianPrison  
  
 **Harry Benton-Sterling (@HaroldBSterling)**  
@DorianII you're crazy.  
  
 **Irish Rose (@rosieposie)**  
You won't make it in prison @DorianII..too flamboyant  
  
 **Dominic Kinsey (@Nic_Kinsey)**  
@DorianII O.O infections...hepatitis...prison...fucked up permanent artwork...  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
I'm gonna go for it #IllRiskIt

* * *

"I know you're all quite young, but I gotta ask...marriage?  Kids?"  The interviewer inquired pleasantly, the smile on his face saying it was a noninvasive, lighthearted question.  Cris and Micah nodded automatically, Benji paused, thinking it over a moment before shrugging in agreement, and Dominic looked over at his bandmates, skeptical.  Eyes skimming over them, the interviewer raised his eyebrows, "You're so _young_ , though."   

Micah laughed, "I'm Romanichal, right?  I get my cheeks pinched every Christmas and endure my mother and grandmother fussing about why I'm _twenty-three_ and unmarried.  When I find the right girl I'll probably end up on some wild crazy shotgun wedding in Vegas."   

Cris smirked, and Dominic laugh, all of them knowing Cheryl well enough to have very little doubt about _that_.  She'd been waiting _years_ for an opportunity to be with Micah publicly; hell if she wouldn't drag him down to the chapel first chance she got.  Benji scowled, "Tacky.  Go to Monte Carlo _at least_.  And...I don't know, I'm twenty-two, been with my girlfriend a while.  I love her, but it's not something I want to rush into.  I just think we're both too young and too unstable to consider marriage a possibility, which isn't to say it isn't on the table just not something _I've_ seriously considered.  It's been a little over a year but even still, I'm still married to my career and my boys," Benji sing-songed, pinching Micah's cheek.   

Micah slapped his hand away.  Dominic rolled his eyes, biting back a smile, and the interviewer turned to Cris who shrugged, "I get _why_ people do that with the age, but I think marriage isn't about _age_ ; it's about maturity, commitment, and love, which is something even adults have trouble with.  I've had a fair few relationships, enough to to know the difference between being in love with the idea as opposed to the person, of looking at someone and saying you love them despite being unable to _truly_ either picturing a future with them or _wanting_ one, and actually being so in love with someone that you can't breath right when they aren't there with you.  The kind of devotion and commitment that goes beyond immature trivial stuff but actually _struggling_ together and overcoming those struggles to have your relationship come out stronger, of knowing all someone's little quirks and loving even the annoying ones because they wouldn't be the same without them, of being able to have great friendship and not just a great physical relationship—"   

" _Mate_ ," Dominic interrupted, tone carefully playful as he stopped Cris before he basically admitted to this guy that he was ridiculously, deliriously in love with Irial and still on Cloud 9 from making up with him (and getting tatted with him because that was definitely becoming a _thing_ ) only twelve hours before.  "The physical stuff is pretty important."   

Micah snickered, and Benji leaned forward, reach across Cris to clock Dominic in the side, "This is why you can't keep a girlfriend."   

Cris rolled his eyes, "He's not _wrong_ , is he?"  Benji narrowed his eyes and pointed a finger warningly at him when he gave Benji a wolfish grin; he turned back to the interviewer, a coy smile on his face, wrapping his hand around his waist and pressing on the bruises dotting his torso that Irial had left there hours ago when they'd woken up to the sun filtering in the room, Irial turning in Cris's arm, running a hand gently over his face and eyes drinking Cris in with the kind of soft, vulnerable warmth and love that he hid from the world with single-minded intensity before bridging the minimal distance, pressing their lips together, bodies aligning, bare skin sliding against bare skin as Irial shifted, laying Cris out onto his back, kissing him sweetly and deeply as he rocked against him, grinding into him.  A soft, satisfied, contented smile spread across Cris's lips just feeling the reminder on his skin let alone in his bum, everything just the way it should be.   

Micah coughed to covered a laugh, and Benji hid his smile behind his hand.  Dominic, possessing by far the best pokerface, elbowed Cris discreetly.  Cris cleared his throats and bit the inside of his cheek, smile not dimming, though, especially when he could see Irial in the background of the studio behind cameramen and crew members and sound techs and management and producers and stylists, chatting with Rosie, Cheryl, Miranda, the band's hair stylist, and Angus, their head of security.  He glanced over, sensing Cris's gaze on him, sticking out his tongue, wrinkling his nose, and bulging his eyes; Cris hid a smile, turning back to the interviewer.   

"I think when you meet someone who makes you feel that way, like you don't even know how you'd be able to function without them there even to _talk_ to, you can never really be _too_ young.  It's not like you're going anywhere," Cris admitted, giving a one shouldered shrug, and he saw Irial quirk an eyebrow at him, the edge of his lips curving up into a smile; he felt something in him relax; they'd only been together a year and a half, considerably longer than every other relationship that the pair of them had had and a hell of a lot more stable regardless and had never talked about marriage other than the one time Irial had admitted on air that he wasn't into the whole institution.  At least he didn't seem off-put by Cris's gung-ho attitude.   

The interviewer raised his eyebrows, "You're only—what?—nineteen—"   

"Almost twenty!"  Dominic cooed, pinching Cris cheek, and he screwed up his face, swatting his hand away.   

"Almost twenty," he smiled, peering at Cris curiously, "and if you met a girl right now who made you feel that way, you would be prepared to walk down the aisle."   

Cris grinned and shrugged, "Serendipitous."   

Irial met Cris's eyes, laughing, eyes sparkling with amusement and a wide smile on his face.  Ashton shot him a glare, and Irial covered his mouth with his hand, still laughing.   

The boys shook their heads; the interviewer went on, "Speaking of girls, your fans always want to know who's single?"   

"Me!" Dominic exclaimed excitedly, a wide smile on his face as he raised his hand.  Cris snorted, looking sideways at him, but Dominic just smirked over at him.   

"Just you then?  Everyone else has girlfriends?"   

"Not Cris," Micah commented when their manager's glare intensified on them.   

"Not you?  No girlfriend?"   

Cris smiled blithely, "Not me.  No girlfriend."   

Benji looked over at Cris with a knowing, amused smile, shaking his head at Cris who glanced at him and smiled impishly, poking him in the cheek.  Ashton looked like he wanted to flip a table and Harry, usually spared Cris's overt interview obvious half-truths, face-palmed while Irial just crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall with his ankles crossed, watching the whole thing with amusement and a glint of possessive satisfaction Cris hadn't outright lied and said he wasn't with _anyone_.   

Glancing at Harry, Cris gave him a questioning look; Harry nodded, "Dominic and I may be severely lack in the girlfriend department, not for lack trying on Dominic's part, mind you."   

"Hey!" Dominic exclaimed while Micah and Benji fell over each other, sniggering.   

" _Micah_ , on the other hand," Cris left it open-ended, smiling beatifically.   

Micah froze, and Irial swung his head to look at Cheryl who froze, a granola bar halfway to her mouth.  Eyes darting to Harry and Ashton, Micah seemed to breathe a little as Harry nodded with a reassuring smile, Ashton's face unreadable as was Daniel, the head of the PR team since Fiona Dempsey had left after giving birth.   

"You've found a girlfriend or are you back together with your ex?"   

Dominic buried his face into Cris's shoulder and snorted out a laugh.  Micah shook his head, "No, no, Joce and I are definitely done.  No, um...I...yeah, I've got a girlfriend."   

"Awww!" Benji teased.   

Micah scoffed, "Oh hush, you, you're worse than me."   

"I'm hardly _the_ worst," Benji muttered.  Dominic giggled while Micah just smiled, skilled enough not to look at Cris whose eyes immediately cut to Harry, Ashton, and Daniel.  Ashton was fuming, Daniel looked stressed already, and Harry just rolled his eyes and shook his head, exasperated but not particularly bothered by all the backlash he'd be cleaning up tomorrow.   

Their blessed interviewer chose not to pick at the comment (had probably been advised not to), "What's her name?  Where'd you meet?  How long have you been together?"   

"Her name's Cheryl, and we've actually always known each other.  She's from my hometown of Bristol, and...awhile?  We reconnected over the holidays so," Micah shrugged with a wide excited grin on his face (Cheryl was pretending not to be tearing up behind the scenes), leaving that to be interpreted but one percent honest if not the whole truth.  Harry nodded.   

Benji said as little about Penney as he could get away with when prompted, weirdly private even with the boys when it came to discussing his private life, moving on to their album and its reception, what they thought of UAE as well as what they'd done that day.  Irial made funny faces at Cris that constantly had him trying to smother his laughter, occasionally making a face back or crossing his eyes at him of mouthing shit to him until either Ashton glared or Daniel made a gesture to cut it out, though it was Harry who took control by daring to order IriL to stop.   

"The city's beautiful," Cris admitted honestly.  "I was out walking around today, took a _lot_ of pictures; it's absolutely incredible."   

"Almost unearthly," Benji added, and the boys nodded in agreement.   

The interviewer's eyes lit, and he pointed to Cris's inner arm, his new antique rose tattoo that complemented Irial's new sword tattoo, "Something happen while you were out on your walk?"   

"Bug bite," Cris lied, sheepishly, smiling embarrassed.   

"And there?" He pointed to another band-aid on his inner bicep, just barely covered by his sleeve that hid his tattoo of the pansexuality symbol.   

Cris looked to Harry who just shrugged; he blushed, "Another bug bite?"   

"And another bug bite on your hand there too?" He challenged, pointing to where Cris had his third and last bandage hiding his new key tattoo, the one Irial had whispered he shoulder get, voice weak and unsure like he was afraid Cris would say no to getting the other half of a tattoo Irial had had since he was old enough to _get_ tattooed.  Cris shrugged, and the interviewer grinned knowingly, "You seem to have a lot of bug bites."   

"There was a swarm," Cris shrugged with a cheeky, timid smile, hand covering his throat where he had several lovebites that Miranda had tried to hide with makeup but failed.   

" _That's_ what we're calling it now?"  Dominic nodded, lips pursed, smiling.   

Ashton look ready to kill, and the interviewer raised his eyebrows, "So bugs?  No illicit activities."   

"No, nothing illegal or shady," Cris choked out, cheeks red.   

"And no...ladies, you're quite sure?"   

Cris met Irial's eyes, darkened and glinting with mischief and entertainment as he shook his head, grin becoming coy, "Definitely no ladies."  The boys sniggered; Irial smirked, quirking an eyebrow.  Ashton broke his pen.  Daniel fumed.  Harry just rolled his eyes again.  Cris smiled angelically because...whatever.  He couldn't come out for another three years because he was trapped in the contract from hell that he was lucky Irial could see beyond; Cris wasn't about to make it easy on them.

* * *

Irial was out of sight for five minutes when the whole show went into a panic.  He'd been watching the boys perform their massive fifteen song setlist with the sort of ongoing enthusiasm genuinely reserved from Broadway or operas...long-winded craziness, the former that at least included dancing.  The boys were ridiculous, all high-energy all the time, calming down only during slower songs, though their adrenaline was clearly still steamrolling onwards and upwards; it was exhausting really, which was probably why Crispin was both a gym junkie and a health nut as well as addicted to rehearsals (or, at least, often obligated to attend them...well... _often_ ).   

A member of the crew had tripped over some downed wires, and Irial had rushed over to help automatically, kneeling down to pick up and reload the box of equipment he'd been carrying.  He'd stood up, offering the righted guy the box wordlessly when the sound of alarm from the crowd managed to completely overwhelm the music playing.  Irial frowned, walking towards his abandoned viewing area with a frown of confusion.   

"Is he alright?"   

"Oh my God."   

"Breathe man,"   

"Cris?" The word was panicked and frightened, small.     

Irial's whole world to see freeze for a moment before he moved quicker, still dazed, maneuvering through the crowded backstage.  He froze in the wings, eyes taking in the helpless band, nervous chittering of the crowd, and the boys carefully around Cris, trembling and breath far too quickly and far too shallowly to be of any real use obtaining oxygen.  His legs gave out, but Micah and Dominic helped lower him to the floor where he put his head between his knees, trying to breathe.   

Ashton made a move towards Irial whose heart seized up with terror before he was rushing out across the stage and over to Crispin, kneel down in front of him.  Dominic looked down at him, "He's...it's a panic attack.  I don't know what to do."   

"Since when does he have panic attacks?" Irial demanded.     

Micah shared a look with Benji, "He didn't tell you?"   

Irial frowned before shaking his head and turning back to Crispin, "Crispin?"  There was no response so Irial tried again, blocking out the noise and the crowd and their audience, "Crispin?  Hey, love, what's the problem?  Everything's fine."  Crispin replied with a jerky, stiff shake of his head, and Irial nodded, scooting closer between Crispin's legs.  "Crispin, princess, look at me," he ordered, dropping his voice and commanding stonily when he received no response, "Crispin Emerson, you look at me."  He did, still trembling and with ragged breathing; Irial smiles softly at him, carding his fingers through the top of Crispin's hair, gripping it tightly and resting his palm on Crispin's forehead.  Crispin sighed and leaned into the contact, body relaxing slightly and the speed of his breathing decreasing, gaze still locked on Irial's. He smiled reassuringly, one hand on Crispin's knee as Irial powered through the pain of sitting on his legs, voice gentle and soft, grateful for whoever had had the good sense to shut off the mics as soon as Crispin devolved,  "Everything is fine, alright, except maybe our arms because Nic had a very good point and it's entirely possible we're going to die of Hepatitis because we got tattoos from a couple of sketch guys with significantly good prices but still...a _possibility_.  Granted a possibility I don't really want to consider because who'd take care of Marius?  And teach my siblings the value and wonders of sarcasm?  And make fun of celebrities with Cheryl on national radio?  And finish your novel...only kidding but you are hipster so it is of some genuine concern to think you'd be writing some depressing Indie fic that would make Rosie pull out her hair and force feed it her little brother.  Who has the weird obsession with the Disney _Buddies_ movies and _Star Wars_ so you two will get along swimmingly—"   

Irial mile-a-minute rambling had calmed Cris enough that he shuddered and closed his eyes, bowing his head and pressing it more firmly into Irial's hand, "You were gone.  I mean, I know you said...but you were _gone_."   

"I was literally backstage being a Good Samaritan," Cris cracked his eyes open and peered up at Irial, "I'm right here.  We're alright.  _You're_ alright, but you won't be when we talk about your tendency for panic attacks that I—and your crew for that matter—seemed to know nothing about."   

Crispin exhaled shakily, nodding, rolling his shoulders back and mimicking Irial breathing to steady his own.  Irial tugged on Crispin's hair reassuringly before scooting backwards bracing his hands on Crispin's knees to stand when he asked weakly, "Don't go."   

Irial balked at him, glancing at the crowd that had assembled around them, the worried fans basically _right there_ , "Crispin..."   

"The tour," Crispin clarified meekly, "I don't...I know what you said but..."   

Sighing, Irial hesitated, studying Cris for a moments before whispering, "I can't promise you that."  Crispin bit his lip and nodded, looking down at the floor, but Irial understood what he meant and continued, "But I'll make some calls, alright?"   

Sighing in relief, Crispin rose to his feet, giving Irial a small smile as he shook off all questions the crew and his management and what looked like an _EMT_ was asking him.  Crispin took a step closer to Irial, pressing the backs of their hands together as he shook off everyone's concern with, "It was a panic attack.  I'm _fine_.  Can we finish?"  Everyone but Irial looked uncertain but acquiesced, retreating back to the wings, Irial moving to follow them while he heard Crispin give a shaky laugh, addressing the crowd and the boys, "Well tonight's been eventful, huh?"  The crowd cheered and clapped for Crispin, and a hand grabbed Irial's arm before he managed to get all the way backstage; he half-turned, meeting Crispin's serious, pleading gaze as he covered his mic and intoned, "Stay where I can see you."   

Irial nodded once and gave Crispin a warm smile, before walking back, ignoring Ashton's dark look as he pulled out his cell and made the call, eyes on Crispin the whole time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The UAE is pretty fabulous, I seriously want to visit, it's like some otherworldly expectation of what I picture the world looking like in 50 yrs and has an underwater hotel...awesome. Interesting side note about the tattoo: I don't know the exact law about tattooing, but I was researching tattoo shops in Dubai, couldn't find any, which lead to one person saying that tough laws are making it more difficult for people to tattoo in the UAE. Also, Cris's panic attacks: "Short-term triggering causes — Significant personal loss, including an emotional attachment to a romantic partner, life transitions, significant life change" So, basically, Irial and Cris are a whole new level of co-dependent, and that's why he has them. Also, yes, that is the pansexuality symbol.


	34. "Pompeii" Bastille

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are antics on the North America tour leg. Cris and Irial are so obvious that they convert people to their ship. And Irial forgoes sex to bitch about Sydney.

**Cris Emerson: overwhelmed by the pressure of fame?**  
Breaking Fourth's youngest member, Cris Emerson, maybe crumbling from the pressure of the band's monumental fame.  The boybander had a panic attack onstage July 17 on the band's final night performing in United Arab Emirates's city, Dubai, startling not only fans but also bandmates, management, and his best friend, BBC Radio DJ, Irial Dorian, who rushed across the stage and spent ten minutes trying to calm Cris down, which he successfully accomplished and the concert continued.  In an official press release, Cris said, "I wouldn't say I'm 'prone' to panic attacks, but they have been occurring irregularly recently, mostly when I feel helpless and out of control.  I never thought it would happen onstage.  I'm sorry for scaring everyone.  Everything just sort of came to a head abruptly in Dubai.  I seriously doubt it'll happen again; it's nothing to worry about and I'm working through the problem."  We're not so sure about that, but let's hope so.  Let's also take a minute to emulate the Crisial shippers and just gush about the cuteness of Dorian racing across stage and spending ten minutes rambling to calm down his panicking bestie in front of nine thousand fans.  That is a bromance.  
  
To: dartmoorlittlemermaid@gmail.com.uk; gingeyleprecahun556@gmail.com  
CC: crossesoflead@gmail.com.uk  
From: irialdorian@gmail.com.uk  
Subject: Your Living Situation  
Holden (and Ariella, don't think I don't see you)  
Not quite sure where you were looking to go for term, but I'm actually going to be traveling until further notice thanks to my lovely (demanding and overly attached) boyfriend (love you, babe) so our flat's going to be empty for four months.  We need a dog-sitter for Marius anyway so you're welcome to stay there, and we'll kill two birds with one stone.  Tour ends December 22, so you know, it'll be awhile.  Just let us know.  I'll be flying into London and staying for the next week to get everything sorted, so preferably that kind of timeline would be nice.  
Please don't make me find a dog-sitter,  
Irial (and Cris) <\--he's a dork :)  
  
 **Tumblr Post: rainbowsandcrisial**  
 **Are we not going to talk about...**  
Yes, we're all super aware Irial Dorian's working his radio show long distance from America (because he's now on tour with his boyfriend) but are we seriously not going to talk about  
1)    The new tats: Cris got the pansexuality symbol tatted on him in Dubai...and the key that matches the lock Irial's had since college...and the antique rose that matches Irial's sword tattoo (and is on the exact same part of his arm and which is another yin/yang symbol), Cris's new phoenix tattoo (a symbol of rebirth...ie his and Irial's obvious recent rough patch), Irial's Japanese lantern (that has a style that matches Cris's cherry blossom tree if you squint...and symbolizes finding light in times of darkness, which he admitted on Dorian Speaks re:again, their fight), and Irial's new palm leaf tied cross with 'have faith, have freedom, believe that someday this prejudice will fade away' written in handwriting that looks suspiciously like Cris's  
2)    Irial didn't Tweet anything the whole day he was out walking the Freedom Trail in Boston with Cris during his birthday except in the morning when he woke up Tweeted it was "someone's birthday :D"  
3)    They were videotaped singing karaoke (sober) at a gay bar that same night Irial Tweeted he saw a drag show  
4)    The Friday before Breaking Fourth's first performance in the US, Irial Tweeted he was going to an LGBTQ flash straight bar takeover...and Cris was photographed leaving the bar they took over in Irial's leather jacket, which he wasn't wearing earlier that day (when he was photographed at Legal Seafoods with Nic, Benji, and Micah)  
5)    Irial is braving a five hour time difference to travel America with Cris and STILL do his show every do.  Who DOES that? That should be proof enough Crisial is real because I don't care how much I love my bff...unless she's dying hell the fuck no.  
Oh...AND Irial's sword's name is T'hy'la which is a word from Star Trek meaning brother/friend/lover/soulmate that Irial (who hates Sci-fi movies and shows) could only have known if someone who watched Star Trek *cough*Cris*cough* told him about it. Also, the sword is from the Princess Bride (which Cris loves) and Cris's Rose is from Beauty and the Beast (which Irial admitted he was obsessed with when Cherrie ribbed him about it...#just saying  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
Canadian bacon takes like...bacon. How disappointing but @Nic_Kinsey will never forgot Canadian Maple syrup after I dumped it on his beauteous locks #hahaha #sorrynotsorry  
  
 **Holy WTF is Life??? (@emersonserin12)**  
Met @DorianII outside the Barclays Center 2nite while waiting for @breakingfourth concert!!!!! #omfg #wtaf #lifemade #HesSoGreat  
  
 **Crisial Updates (@CrisialUpdates)**  
@DorianII confirmed on #dorianspeaks he'll be on @breakingfourth tour until the end #CrisialIsOnTour #CrisialIsReal  
  
 **Crisial Updates (@CrisialUpdates)**  
And if you're going to @breakingfourth concert keep an eye out for @DorianII...he actually hangs out with fans outside and walks around the venue and sits with people :D  
  
 **Tumblr Post: crisialontour**  
 **The On-Tour Crisial Cuteness**  
•    visited Independence Hall and Liberty Bell in Phile and were videoed singing Backstreet Boys karaoke with Benji, Nic, and Micah in Newark  
•    Benji and Cris Tweeted that Irial and Nic got them all thrown out of Baltimore Railroad Museum (which Micah really wanted to see)  
•    Instagram pic of Crisial at the Kentucky Derby museum and Irial Tweeted a pic of Cris riding a racehorse  
•    Went to Seaworld with the boys (and got matching Shamu shirts)...Nic is like the biggest Crisial shipper, I swear, and took that picture of them smiling at each other at the polar bear exhibit that gave MY MUM feels  
•    Cris Instagrammed a pic of Irial's shopping spree in Galleria Dallas (complete with Burberry bags that we all know Irial didn't buy for himself) and Irial indirect Tweeted Cris that he NEEDED more clothes  
•    Cris spent like a week getting cozy with a Canadian actress when they were in Edmonton, Calgary, and Vancouver then got "We could build a universe right here" (lyrics from 'Uncover' by Zara Larsson...which is about hiding a relationship, btw) tattooed. Irial got 'random' sheet music tattooed around his wrist the same week  
•    Went with the boys to see the Space Needle (wearing each other's clothes) then Irial Instagrammed a pic of him and Cris at the Crocodile Cafe (where Irial bought that Crocodile hoodie, as he told Cherrie on Dorian Speaks, that Cris has been wearing)  
•    Sadly didn't get married in Vegas. Cherrie legit made a joke about it on air and Cris (at 4am Vegas time, mind you, was heard mumbling in the background that it wasn't funny and could people stop suggesting that before...he didn't finish because Irial wisely shut him up).  But they DID hit the strip with the boys, see the MGM lions (Cris Tweeted a pic of himself that he couldn't have taken himself), Mandalay Bay and the Mob Museum (Irial Tweeted a pic he couldn't have taken himself), zip lining with the boys (Micah, Irial, and Dominic Tweeted about it), Irial supposedly saw RuPaul's drag show and Chippendale alone...but Cris was MIA both times and there are pics Irial couldn't have taken by himself with RuPaul and several dancer's so...doubtful  
I'm so freaking excited for more tour cuteness. Thank God Cris outed Irial's identity so we could have these cute pics.  
  
 **Holden Ireland (@holdtheirish)**  
@DorianII @Cris_Emerson your evil dog ate all my pizza so I'm feeding him to a lion in retaliation  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
@holdtheirish he just doesn't listen to you. You don't have the magic tongue.  
  
 **Holden Ireland (@holdtheirish)**  
@DorianII fuck that, I think we both know I do  
  
 **Irish Rose (@rosieposie)**  
@holdtheirish @DorianII and what the hell does that mean?  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
O.O well...I'm going to hide for the next several thousand years...#OhShit  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
Key to my heart: knowing how to keep me entertained even when you're not here ;D  
  
 **Cris Emerson takes advantage of time off on tour**  
Despite Breaking Fourth's tour stop in Los Angeles being packed with four shows and numerous interviews, Cris Emerson seems capable of taking full advantage of their free time.  The band's youngest member, and definitely most promiscuous, has been spotted around the town with supermodel Willamina Leddy.  The pair, after reportedly meeting backstage at the band's first concert in LA, have been spotted having lunches and dinners together as well as a very early breakfast only a couple blocks away from the band's hotel, both of them casual and Willamina rocking a familiar flannel shirt several sizes too big for her.  Sources say he's so smitten that he even introduced her to bandmates and best friend, Irial Dorian, when they took a day off to hang out at Santa Monica Pier.  Is this relationship going to last?  Who's to say with Cris Emerson, but if you're a Crisamina shipper at least take comfort in this: it's the first time he's ever introduced a girl to his BFF...we're just saying.  
  
 **Breaker Gurl (@caligirl_849)**  
Fuck everyone who says @DorianII hates Crisial shippers. Met before @breakingfourth LA concert wearing a Crisial shirt...and he bought it from me and made a Keek video with my friend singing a JB song  
  
 **Crisial Updates (@CrisialUpdates)**  
If you're bored, in need of a laugh, and don't know, check out @DorianII travel vlogs on #dorianspeaks website  
  
 **Majorie for Crisial (@Mageorie_)**  
@CrisialUpdates just saw @DorianII recent #dorianvlogs trying his Spanish on unsuspecting Mexicans with @Cris_Emerson #lmao #TheyreHilarious #Crisial #CrisialForever  
  
 **Hola Breaking Fourth! (@DR_senorita63)**  
@DorianII bought me a @breakingfourth shirt at Santo Domingo concert b/c I didn't have enough money #lovedorian #thankyou #HesAKeeperCris  
  
 **Dorian deemed a 'role model' by the gay community**  
A recent LGBTQ magazine declared Irial Dorian, radio DJ and former playboy, a role model for the gay community.  The declaration came on the heels of Breaking Fourth commending him in an interview in Brazil about his actions in San Juan.  Reportedly, he met Miguel Suarez outside the venue when he was chatting up the line (as per usual for him) and learned he was closeted and nervous about coming out to his mother; Dorian sat with him through the whole concert, took him backstage to meet the band, and then helped him come out to his mother when she picked him up at the venue.  And it's not the first time he's been an inspiration of change on tour.  He ended up having a beer with Louisville protestors who'd agreed to disagree with Louisville's gay community but "be respectful of their personal choices" after both Dorian and Cris Emerson helped them rescue several horses when a trailer overturned down the street from the protest site, hours before Breaking Fourth's concert.  He also terrified Emerson and his bandmates weeks later when he braved Kansas's infamous Westboro Baptist Church, who weren't only protesting the band but Irial as well, to offer the chilly protesting children hot cocoa and cookies, which they accepted despite their parent's influence, before returning to usher Cris inside the venue and reassure him.  We're thinking despite first impressions, we may actually agree.  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
Today...I saw Jesus :O  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@DorianII you realize people think you're talking about sex, right?  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
@Cris_Emerson...oh that would explain the comments. I meant Christ the Redeemer in Tijuca Forest looking over Rio. But that sex theory....#slightlyaccurate  
  
 **Jackie Olivier (@allonsymesamies)**  
Who saw @Nic_Kinsey and @BenjiDIrving Keek video of @DorianII and @Cris_Emerson trying to tango in Buenos Aires #cuteness #Crisial #CaptainNic  
  
 **Tumblr Post: catchingdreams092814**  
Was wined and dined in a national zoo by someone who hates zoos today. I'm a very lucky boy  <3  
  
 **Tumblr Post: kingkinseyskate**  
Look, I wasn't a Crisial shipper, but truth is truth.  Irial and Cris do his Dorian Speaks travel vlogs together in a room with one bed (or outside but always together).  At 2am (now that they're in Auckland on the tour's 3rd leg) you can hear Cris in the room while Irial's on the radio.  The butterfly tattoo he got on his wrist in honor of the Butterfly Project (never mind that he had to have heard about it through Irial who met a girl at the band's Dallas venue who told him about it because he talked about her on Dorian Speaks with Cherrie) is the same one Irial drew on a sticky note during one of his vlogs after they read early Europeans thought butterflies were humans souls so he drew one on a Post-It note, said it was his soul, stuck the thing on Cris's forehead and said "cherish it" (so he got it tattooed on his body...ok). Then they ditched the rest of Breaking fourth (they've got like a 2 wk break in Auckland between tour legs) to meet New Zealand natives (together), learn to surf (together), jump off sky tower (together), hike and picnic at Kitekite Falls (romantic and together), scuba dive (together), horseback ride and camp on the beach (together).  Plus both Irial and Cris are the only people in sight with no bf who Irial's supposedly remaining faithful while on tour with the band and doesn't have a female anywhere in his vicinity (respectively) and both seem to have a lot of odd bruises, scratches, and lovebites.  I mean...really? I can't believe it took me so long to join this ship.  THAT'S subtlety?

* * *

If Cris's management had any objection to how attached at the hip Irial and Cris were, no one said anything to him.  Most likely because Irial, who had decided he had no intentions of hiding his intense disdain for them, glared at them menacingly every time that approached either of them, especially after they'd pulled Irial into a meeting when they were in Ottawa months ago to talk about image and Irial's impact on Cris's.   

He wasn't entirely sure what had been said, but Irial had been Tweeting with even more frequency, dropping obvious hints about their relationship whereas Cris tried to be way more subtle about things.  And Harry, surprisingly, whenever management ordered him to call Cris and try to get him under control, was more pissed off with Dissident than with either Cris or Irial, because apparently they were making the situation worse with the faux girlfriends and attempts to cover up Cris and Irial's antics and not listening to Harry about possible ways to fix shit.   

They were inseparable except for during concerts.   

Irial preferred to actually be a part of the venue and experience "your fucking batshit crazy fans" at close quarters.  He'd won them over, and they adored him, especially given how open and friendly he was with them.  Irial took videos with them and put them on Keek, YouTube, and his vlog.  He ate with them in the venue (and bitched about the price of ice cream).  He'd bought merch for a fair share of people who'd looked crestfallen when they couldn't afford something they desperately wanted.  When Irial found people he really adored, he took them backstage to meet them band, because he was a sweetheart like that.  He'd helped a boy in San Juan come out and started a whole freaking musical outside of their Sao Paulo venue, getting the entire line of ten thousand some people to sing their songs with shocking synchronization, sending the video to the boys before posting it on every social networking site known to man.  In Brisbane, he'd even forgone his and Cris's usual routine of pre-concert downtime of finding weird shit in whatever city they were in, eating at fairly sketch places that had a 50/50 shot of not giving them food poisoning, and making out in bathrooms and back alleys when nobody was looking, to help the haggard barista they'd met in the Starbucks.  She'd been abandoned by the coworkers so Irial had offered her assistance and helped man the bar until the concert, the pair of them working in the Crisial shirts (which Iri'd apparently bought _literally_ off a girl's body at one of their concerts), then brought his new temp coworker to the show and backstage afterwards.   

Irial was a teddy bear, really, and it was a side of Irial people didn't see often because he wasn't comfortable showing it, like being a generous, kind person made him vulnerable and weak.  Cris just loved him all the more for not only possessing a side of him that was so amazing as that but also finding it cringe-worthy that people noticed and talked about it and commended him for it.  Melting a little every time Irial got that tiny smile and deep blush when someone he'd done something nice to or for took to Twitter to thank him profusely for, as he put it, "just being a halfway decent person, honestly."   

With a sigh, Irial flopped onto the bed beside Cris, tossing his mobile onto a chair and curling into Cri's side.  Cris squinted down at his boyfriend, bleary eyed and exhausted, the red glow of the clock-radio screaming that it was two o'clock in the morning, much too early to be awake if it wasn't for Irial's promise to his very understanding bosses that he'd be on air everyday and keep in touch after he'd explain to them why he needed to travel with a boyband for the next four and a half months.   

Cris ran his fingers through Irial's hair soothingly, and Irial hummed quietly, looking up at Cris through his eyelashes, "Done?"   

"So it seems.  At two a.m.  Fuck I'm exhausted," Irial lamented.   

A slight feeling of guilt twisted through Cris's gut; he'd been the one who'd asked Irial to stay with him, put him into working all these weird hours.  While Cris had gotten into the habit of waking up with him and _staying_ up through the show with him, either web-surfing or nursing his Twitter account, more often than nottaking to Tumblr and reblogging cute Crisial posts or pictures of Irial, much to Irial's amusement (not that he could talk since this was from a man who read fanfiction about them and emailed the good ones to Cris to read) while Irial worked, this was basically still _his_ fault.  Irial stopped that line of thought, picking up Cris's mood and leaning up to kiss him sweetly and deeply, full of love and gratitude and genuine appreciation for him or their relationship or staying up with him.  Cris didn't know and didn't care, placing his hands on Irial's hips to hold him steady and kissing back, their lips slotting against each other, tongues twining and dancing together perfectly, leaving them both breathless.   

"You don't seem exhausted," Cris said breathlessly when they both pulled out of the kiss for air, foreheads against each other's, gold eyes locked on gray.   

Irial smirked, "I'm awake _now_.  Like for the rest of the...morning?  It is after midnight."   

Cris rolled his eyes and laughed, catching Irial's lips and running his hands over Irial's bare skin, swallowing the moan he let out when Cris let one hand slip under the hem of his borrowed fleece pajama bottom, dancing over the skin of his ass and along the crack, "What to do for the next five hours?"   

Nipping Cris's lips, Irial smiled down at him with a wicked glint lurking beneath, "I have to make my vlog."   

" _Now_?" Cris whined.   

"Now," Irial confirmed, giving Cris another deep kiss, pulling away with a curse and a moan when Cris licked along his lips asking for entrance and rolled his hips against Irial's.  He gave Cris a dirty look as he rolled off the bed and smack Cris's foot, "up, Casanova, we've got places to be."   

"I'd really rather _be_ inside you," Cris mumbled under his breath but complied, clumsily dragging himself out of bed.  Irial chuckled, only bothering to pull on a Henley shirt and his new Uggs that he and Benji had acquired because "they're fucking Australian national treasures."  Cris followed his lead, tugging on Irial's Crocodile Cafe sweatshirt, a beanie, and a pair of Irial's Sperrys before letting his boyfriend tug him out the door.   

Ten minutes later, they were walking down the quiet Sydney streets, Irial actually carrying Cris on his back, much to Cris's amusement; Cris pulled Irial's phone out of his back pocket and booted up the camera, cringing like he did every time he simply swiped to unlock it.  How did he live without a lock?  Dangerously, that's how.   

"Hello Irial's viewers look at what I've done to my elf.  He's a pack mule now too," Cris grinned.   

"Keep it up and I'll rebel!" Irial huffed.   

"Doubtful, very doubtful."   

Irial scowled and threw Cris off his back, flipping him off while Cris just laughed and hopped off without much trouble, sticking his tongue out at his boyfriend.  Irial didn't look impressed, stealing his phone back, "Anyway, if Crispin's quite finished..." Cris offered him an innocent expression and shrugged, "it's 2am, and I'm wide awake from working."   

"And he's a terrible friend that keeps me awake at night," Cris added, throwing an arm over Irial's shoulder as he simultaneously videotaped them and walked down the street, trusting Cris to look out for his wellbeing.  A warm feeling sprouted in Cris's tummy, smiling spreading over his face; Irial pinched his side as he slid his arm around Cris's waist, automatically leaning into him.   

"As if you don't enjoy every second of it," Irial intoned; Cris looked down at him, breath catching as he looked down at him to find his eyes dark, expression hungry and heated.  _This_ is why he should have listened to Cris and stayed locked in their hotel room shagging until their morning wake-up call.  They were both young and easily turned on, never mind the fact that they could barely keep their hands off each other under the most serious of circumstances.   

Cris just quirked an eyebrow, smile growing coy and mischievous; he looked back to the camera before he sprung an erection in the middle of the sidewalk, "So Iri decided the best possible cure for _his_ insomnia was for _both_ of us to randomly go walking around Sydney."   

Irial scoffed, "As if you would have let me wander around a strange city _alone_.  What would your mother say?  What would _my_ mother say?"   

"I think I'd be more inclined to listen to what _Harry_ says...or picture what Rosie would _do_ if I lost you in Australia."   

"Ha, true," Irial commented, hip-checking Cris who responded by tugging on Irial's hair.   

"So here you are, Sydney after dark," Cris took the camera and oscillated it to show the near empty street.   

"Severely lacking nightlife," Irial bemoaned.  Cris clucked his tongue at Irial but didn't disagree.  Pausing in the middle of the street, Irial raised an eyebrow, mouth dropping open in an 'O' of surprise before he made random wild hand gestures; Cris made a face at the camera that roughly translated into "what the fuck, do you see what I have to deal with?"  Making a choked sound, Irial finally exclaimed, "An open cafe!"   

"It's two in the morning, elf, I think you need your eyes checked."   

Irial scowled, "It's much closer to three princess.  And look."   

Cris complied with a heavy sigh and a shake of his head; Irial whacked him on the head and confiscated the camera, turning it to show the lit glass front of the store.  A woman behind the counter and a few patrons in the sparse interior; Irial wrapped his arms around Cris's waist, pressing his front against Cris's back; Cris leaned into him, breathing shallow when Irial stood on his tiptoes to trail several open mouth kisses over Cris's throat, sucking quietly and biting lightly, running his tongue over ever minor bruise he left; Cris let out a shuddering breath and Irial chuckled, pressing a kiss under Cris's ear, lips brushing along the shell of his ear when he whispered, "Can we go inside?"   

"Whatever you want babe," Cris replied, turn his head to capture Irial's lips in a quick kiss before Irial released his hold on Cris, going to the door with a wide, excited grin.  Cris put a hand on Irial waist as he opened the door for Irial to slip inside.   

The woman at the counter turned to see them and blinked in surprise, "Oh," Irial continued to meandered up to the counter, Cris follow close behind, hand still on his waist, "welcome to Maisy's...and you're recording..." The words were flat.   

"For his vlog," Cris said before grinning impishly, "anything to say to his ten viewers?"   

"Hey you prat, that's quite enough!" Irial said indignantly,   

The girl shrugged, "Never work the graveyard shift.  The weirdest people come in, and it's boring as hell."   

"You're open this late?" Irial asked like it was a fluke.  Cris shook his head at his boyfriend but smiled at him affectionately, adorable really.   

"No," she drawled flatly, "I'm a robber, just thought I'd offer you some coffee before I finished making off with my loot.  _Yes_ , we're open this late."   

"Alright, no need to get all mean about it."   

"No coffee for him."   

"You have English Breakfast tea? I'm in love."   

She looked at Cris, "Tea is caffeinated, you know."   

Cris grinned and shrugged, smiling down at Irial again who looked up, met his gaze, and gave him a warm smile before turning back to the barista.  "And this one here will take an affogato with chocolate ice cream, because I know you just that well," Irial teased.  Cris rolled his eyes but didn't deny it.   

"Are you flirting with me in front of the love of your life who provides with you with Breakfast tea...I'm thinking you have very low standards.  _English breakfast tea._ "   

"Perhaps. You _have_ met my boyfriend," Irial smirked.   

Cris bit back a smile, "That's not very nice."   

"No, but it's honest," Irial joked.   

"I think you're just upset that I said you had low standards. You should learn not to channel so negatively. It's unbecoming in a young man such as yourself."   

"Ok brat, that's quite enough out of you."   

The barista placed their drinks on the counter and smiled at them, "You two are cute.  Feel free to come back on my shift anytime."   

Cris blushed and mumbled a thank you while Irial grinned, pinching his cheek but saying sincerely, "Of course we are. Have you seen this gorgeous face of his, and his long luscious locks.  He's adorable, I know."   

They sat down at a table; Irial spun the camera around to capture the interior, which amounted to a guy with many too many facial tattoos sipping black coffee and munching on a bagel, a shaggy, haggard looking man in a cowboy hat strumming on a guitar, a blonde girl hunched over in the corner, humming along to the chords Guitar Guy was playing, the barista, a few quiet people on laptops towards the back, and them.  Irial turned to Cris and grinned, "It's so sleepy in here."   

That of course was how Cris ended up perched on a table not ten minutes later playing the guy's guitar while the man in question had managed to turn a whole table into a drum set; the two of them playing 'Little Bird' by Ed Sheeran together.  Pierced Guy had taken possession of Irial phone when he realized Irial couldn't both record and start a club at the same time; Irial had managed to get not only the people with laptops in the back but also the barista up, laughing and dancing around the room.  Irial and the Blonde Corner Chick whirled around dramatically, giggling and singing along with Cris.  Laughing and smirking at Irial whenever he looked over to grin enthusiastically at Cris (management was going to have a problem with _that_ tomorrow as there was little chance Irial would cut it), he kept playing, making it through 'If You Left Him For Me' by Cody Simpson, 'Brave' by Sara Bareilles, 'My Weakness' by Kris Allen (that would certainly raise some eyebrows since he and Irial basically sung the whole song back and forth to each other), 'Happily' by One Direction (that actually caused Cris to tear up a little while Irial had stopped dancing to sit on the counter and watch Cris with a sad, soft smile on his face, sniffling slightly and trying not to cry along with him),  'When Can I See You Again' by Owl City, '(I Can't) Forget About You' by R5 that the _entire_ cafe sang along to thanks to Irial, and Irial actually sat down pulled Cris up to dance and sing to 'Carry You' by Union J with him before he'd collapsed next to Pierced Guy, chatting amicably.   

Cris sat beside Guitar Guy whose name, Irial told him, was Beau, the two of them harmonizing to 'Small Bump' by Ed Sheeran while most of the room slow danced, silent and serious to the song.  Irial met Cris's eyes and smiled softly at him before continuing to talk to the man who had passed Irial's phone back to him, camera now turned off, mostly so that Irial could play with his mobile while he chatted.   

Irial was amazing.  Most people in the cafe had avoided the guy with a pierced face, too much leather, motorcycle gloves and boots, and half-shaved greasy dyed black hair, his blond roots beginning to poke free.  Not Irial.  He was one of those rare people who actually lived by the beliefs he put forth into the world.  Not to judge people by their looks and to treat each and every person with the same open-minded idealism until knowing otherwise they didn't deserve it.  It was why he'd rushed into helping a bunch of anti-gay protestors they'd come across in Louisville (thankfully not boycotting Breaking Fourth but something else entirely) rescue a group of horses after a trailer overturned despite the foul things they'd been shouting at him minutes before.  It was why he'd nearly given Cris a heart attack when he'd gone, against security's advice, into the fray (while wearing a pair of split checkered and black skinny jeans, neon yellow braces, and his 'Power Bottom' t-shirt) to buy Starbucks for every kid he'd counted in the WBC protest, then spent the next fifteen minutes curled up in Cris's lap inside, arms wrapped around each other, both of them shaking.  Irial was just as amazing as everyone claimed Cris was, just a hell of a lot more subtle about it.   

Irial grinned, tugging Pierced Guy over to Cris when he finished the song; Cris raised his eyebrow at Irial who just beamed, "Crispin, this is Noah.  Noah, this is my Crispin.  He's been wanting a piercing...or two.  Who's to say?  He only wanted one tattoo now he's got half his body covered in them."   

"Your fault," Cris remarked, and Irial shrugged, a cheerful smile on his face as he looked over at Noah, "you have your equipment?"   

Noah laughed, "I always have my equipment."   

"Oh my God, are you gonna pierce this guy right here?"  The barista inquired.   

Cris pursed his lips, and Noah shrugged, smirking, "If he's up for it."   

Slanting a sideways look at Irial, Cris raised his eyebrows, smiling slightly, silently asking what he thought about.  Irial grinned cheekily in agreement, which completely explained the YouTube video of Cris getting his ear pierced in a 24 hour cafe in Sydney but only partially explained the subsequent one of Irial sitting in Cris's lap with Cris's arms wrapped around him singing 'Give Me Love' by Ed Sheeran while Beau played along on guitar as Irial stuck his tongue out and got a needle shoved through it.   

But then...maybe Irial should be more careful about making bets since his hurt a lot more than Cris's for sure but was toe-curling sexy when he ran his tongue over the underside of Cris's cock.  That was one joke he wouldn't mind Irial keeping; Irial had just laughed when he said so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maisy's cafe is a real cafe that is really open 24hrs...unlike Starbucks. I know nothing about Sydney's nightlife, but I live in New York City and even at two in the morning the only real nightlife that can typically be found is people wandering home from a night out on a club. The tumblr url I did change the last digit because I got the year wrong in whenever I used it last, but it's otherwise the same and is Cris's Tumblr. Also, let me just recommend watching Notting Hill because I just saw it for the first time: fabulous.


	35. "Tell The World" Eric Hutchinson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cris's keeping secrets. Jimjilbang is a thing. And someone gets publicly sappy for their second anniversary

**Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
Last day in Sydney...Obelisk Beach? Um...yes please ;D #nudity #gaybeach  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
This nudity thing...bad idea how do I hide my raging hard on? #SomeMenShouldAlwaysGoNude #just saying #sorrynotsorry  
  
 **Ainsley B4 (@kissey_crissy_)**  
@DorianII um...how do you think your bf feels about that?  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
@kissey_crissy_  pretty proud of himself I'd say  
  
 **Breaking Fourth's Melbourne adventures**  
After days of singing, surf, and sand in Sydney, you'd think the boys of Breaking Fourth would be tired...apparently not.  They played three shows back-to-back in Melbourne and, instead of winding down on their last day in the city, all four went out with the band's good friend, radio DJ, Irial Dorian.  Dorian, Benji, and Micah spent much of the day going to aquariums, wildlife parks, and shopping while Cris and Nic, the band's two youngest, enjoyed several rounds of golf at Melbourne's Royal Golf Club.  Later, they all met up for dinner at Melbourne's famed Vue De Monde before heading to Luna Park for the rest of their evening.  Cute, sweet, scandal free...how long is _that_ going to last we wonder?  
  
 **Micah Cross (@MC_Cross)**  
Saw endangered wildlife, all I wanted was sleep...but got taught what 'reverse cowgirl' means  
  
 **Cherrie Taylor (@Cherrie_TA)**  
@MC_Cross do I want to know how that even came up?  
  
 **Micah Cross (@MC_Cross)**  
@Cherrie_TA Adelaide has a giant rocking horse. @DorianII had a big mouth  
  
 **Cherrie Taylor (@Cherrie_TA)**  
@MC_Cross well now that you know, any time you're up for it, just say the word ;) #ThanksDorian  
  
To: rosieireland@gmail.com; haroldpotter6999@gmail.com  
From: irialdorian@gmail.com  
Subject: Alone time isn't good for me  
So Perth,  
It's cute. Nice. Last stop in Australia before the boys are onto Asia. Yesterday we all went to a Koala Park (interesting and weird), an art museum (it seemed like a good idea at the time), and I went on a date (with Crispin, chill out).  He is such a sap; he took me to an aquarium (you know how I love Marine life...fucking hate zoos though) and this amazing seafood restaurant...and we got tattoos (because it's us so they're 'sickeningly cutesy' mine's an antique pocketwatch that's style matches Crispin's antique compass rose ). There's a point to this story, I promise.  
So today they had rehearsals and I was alone so I got this fantastic crowned lion tattoo and the Starbucks logo (I know, but I was commemorating a significant period in my life so shut the fuck up Rosie) and bought a stud for my tongue (because it gets Crispin so hot that I'm thinking I'll keep it) and found Tiffany and Co. (pay attention now, this is the point of the story). Anyway, what do you think?  I already bought it, but I quite like it for my Crispin, very much his weird Hipster style.  
Iri  
  
 **Text messa** **ge from Rosie to Iri** **al**  
 **Rosie** : Why did you buy Cris a $1300 ring?  
 **Irial** : Because I had the money? :P  
 **Rosie** : ...Iri is that an engagement ring?  
 **Irial** : Calm down, I'm not proposing right this second.  
 **Rosie** : wtf you don't get want to GET married!!!!  
 **Irial** : Correction...I said it's an antiquated tradition. But whatever Crispin does and I have no real objection  
 **Irial** : He keeps dropping hints like he's being subtle...he's not  
 **Rosie** : Idc what time it is. Conference call me and Harry. NOW  
  
 **Tumblr Post: ThisShipSailsItself**  
 **Singapore Cuteness**  
As Crisial shippers, let's all just take a moment to squeal about them taking the whole week Breaking Fourth had off before starting their Asian leg to be cute all over Singapore together (never mind their complementary watch and compass tats...Cris's compass point North aligns perfectly to point to Iri's pocketwatch...just saying).  They went ice skating, Tweeted pics of each other on the Singapore Flyer, went to the Sky Park, went to the Gardens on the Bay, went shopping for Christmas together at the Esplanade Mall, and had several quiet, romantic dinners. And Cris got a mermaid tattoo for his sister, Ariella, and a herd of horses he said in an interview recently represent his family...one of the 'horses' is a unicorn with a crown around it's neck (Irial just got a crowned lion, another of those yin/yang symbols they're both so obsessed with). And don't hate on this post, truth is truth (Cris was photographed leaving a gay nude beach, Obelisk, in Sydney where Irial said he sprung a boner that his boyfriend 'felt pretty proud' of...like seriously, come at me), don't like it, don't ship it, and get off this tag :)  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
Saw the Golden Buddha today...never bring @DorianII anywhere that requires reverence -.-  
  
 **Micah Cross (@MC_Cross)**  
@Cris_Emerson no shit, thought the monks were going to kill him #smh  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
@Cris_Emerson @MC_Cross shut up, you love me XD  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@DorianII not right now -_-  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
Um...ok wow. Someone tells that arse not to even talk to me. Seriously. #SoDoneRightNow  
  
 **Dominic Kinsey (@Nic_Kinsey)**  
Took @Cris_Emerson 7hrs, great Thai takeout, and an embarrassing rendition of 'Stay' by Rihanna but he caved, said ily, and is out of the dog house  
  
 **Harry Benton-Sterling (@HaroldBSterling)**  
@Cris_Emerson @Nic_Kinsey @DorianII that took longer than expected  
  
 **Irish Rose (@rosieposie)**  
@Cris_Emerson weak man  
  
 **Mai Chin (@red29dragon)**  
OMFG I just saw @breakingfourth in Shanghai Disneyland #wtf #whatislife  
  
 **Li Juan (@thebeautifulstrange)**  
Met @Cris_Emerson and @DorianII at McDonalds!!!! #TheyreSoNice #Shanghai #CrisialIsReal  
  
 **Dominic Kinsey (@Nic_Kinsey)**  
Saw my Seoul reflected in your eyes...lol  
  
 **Benji Irving (@BenjiDIrving)**  
@Nic_Kinsey don't quit your day job #NotAPoet  
  
 **Crisial Updates (@CrisialUpdates)**  
Idk what's with with @DorianII @Cris_Emerson @piercetheveil on Dec19 but @MC_Cross Keek of them singing Bulletproof Love got ME wet and gave Dorian an erection #justsaying

* * *

Crispin was acting weird...suspicious...weirdly suspicious.   

One second, they'd been on a plane with Crispin pouting about how they couldn't spend their second anniversary together, and the next, they're in Seoul, South Korea and his boyfriend is being weirdly suspicious about...something.   

The day had started off fabulously with an early morning blow job, mutual hand jobs in the shower, and lazy kisses in between eating their bizarre breakfast of bbopki in a crowded marketplace.  Seoul wasn't London, and they weren't as sure as what to do with their day.  So Irial had decided the best way to spend their one and only day in Seoul before his concert and on their second anniversary (because they were _not_ that disgustingly annoying couple that celebrated three, six, and nine months like making it a quarter through was something deserving of celebration) was relaxing Korean style.   

Jjimjilbang was cool and bizarre but mostly cool.  It was like a spa/sauna/healthy eatery for Crispin with heated floors to just lay out on and be uber-relaxed.  Very few people had recognized Crispin, and no one had approached him for pictures or autographs in the quiet sanctuary of the establishment.  It had been nice and much calmer than anything except the occasional dinners they'd had alone had been throughout the tour.  They'd done the whole naked heated pool thing (and mostly kept their hands off each other...or at least kept what little inappropriate touches they'd shared surprisingly, incredibly discreet), spent time in a sauna (totally not all up in each other's spaces but since no one else had been in there and they'd been smart enough not fuck...or leave evidence anyway, Irial didn't really give it a second thought), but the heated floor had been both of the favorite parts of the place for sure.  They'd spent the hours before Crispin had to head off to suspicious last minute rehearsals Irial wasn't allowed to attend, lounging on the floor, sides pressed close together and hands linked between their bodies, just talking.   

Irial vaguely remembered telling Crispin about the ex-boyfriend—who'd basically fucked him up for relationships forever—in a quiet monotone, and Crispin had simply stroked his thumb over Irial's knuckles and raised their hands to kiss the back of Irial's hand when he'd finished.  He'd even opened up about his mother...stepmother...adoptive mother whatever by just starting with, "She yelled a lot.  And it wasn't like the yelling was the problem; it was that when she got upset about one little thing it snowballed until she was up in arms about everything you'd ever done wrong.  She pulled all the punches, that one.  Never held back from the low blows about how I'd never accomplish anything, how I was a disgusting slob who was so ungrateful for everything she did for me and had no sense of responsibility.  I never really knew if she meant it, but it's certainly why I left home.  It's also why I don't really fight back verbally; that kind of environment conditions you that it's best not to say anything at all, to do rather than to say.  Talking won't get you anywhere but deeper into trouble."   

Shaking his head, Irial ran his hands through his hair and perched precariously on the railing of the stadium, eyes roving over his boys singing their final song of the night according to their setlist.  Beside him, Sue, the American transplant Irial had latched onto when he'd been doing his typical peruse of the line, was clapping and singing, flipping her bubblegum hair around as she sang along to 'The Road', which their fifth album had derived it's name from as had the tour.  Irial smiled and shook his head, pulling out his phone and leaning back precariously to snap a quick picture of the packed Seoul stadium that he was in, shaking his head when he caught sight of a Crisial sign.  He bit back a smile and uploaded the picture.

**Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
Whoever thought Korea would have so much love for my boys @breakingfourth? ;)   

Sue met his gaze and rolled her eyes as the song came to an end, "You've got a bit of an obsession with Tweeting, you know that?"   

Giving her a wolfish grin, Irial shrugged, hopping off the railing and turning around when the song came to an end.  The applause, screams, and cries of 'I Love You' were deafening as always, and Irial rocked back on his heels, eyes on the stage where the boys were still out smiling at the applauding crowd.  Micah held up a hand while Benji and Dominic made motions to quiet the crowd, Crispin nowhere to be seen suddenly.   

"So," Micah began slowly, "this is usually the part where we leave you, but..." he said slowly, glancing to the wings where Crispin appeared with an acoustic guitar.   

"But Cris, here," Dominic put a hand on Crispin's shoulder, "well he quite loves Korea."   

The cheering and applauding in the stadium was thunderous as were the 'I love yous' directed at Crispin; Irial frowned down at his boyfriend, because what the hell was this child up to?   

Benji grinned, joining in on the good-natured ribbing, "He even spent the day indulging in a national pastime."   

"Baseball!" Dominic cheered.   

Benji smacked the back of his head, "Jimbil...no, no, no, jimjal...um..."   

" _Jjimjilbang_ ," Micah corrected haughtily before pursing his lips and looking to the crowd, "Did I get that right?"   

They applauded, and Crispin shook his head and confided, "I need new friends."  Everyone laughed, and Micah handed Crispin the microphone before following Benji and Dominic to sit on the steps of the stage, the three of them talking quietly with each other and whispering to the band while Crispin stepped up to the front of the stage, a hush falling over the stage as he stuck the microphone back in its stand and smiled sweetly out at everyone, "So, today's a really special day for me, but as I can't be home for it because I'm here with all you lovely people," the crowd roared in support while Irial's mouth dropped open, and he shook his head in surprise.  _What the hell kind of mess will Harry be cleaning up from London tomorrow?_   "I'm going to commemorate it with you lot, if that's alright," they cheered, and Crispin's smile grew more brilliant and more confident, "I'm going to play and sing this first song, which you might know.  The second song, you probably won't know.  And the third song, you definitely won't and we probably shouldn't be attempting to perform it yet," Crispin looked back at the boys who laughed and called something back to him.  He grinned and nodded, "Yeah, but we're going to anyway."   

The room fell silent with a hush as Crispin looked back at the band and nodded to them before he started playing the familiar song.  Irial's mouth dropped open, and he put his hands up to cover his shocked expression as Crispin played and sang 'Give Me Love' by Ed Sheeran; Irial shook his head.  God, his boyfriend was such a romantic little sap.  _This song_.   

His lips curved up into a half-smile, tears welling in his eyes.  Irial loved Ed Sheeran as did Crispin, and this song not only tended to make Irial cry like a baby, it was also the song that they'd made love to the morning after they made up in Dubai and had been Crispin's ringtone for Irial the last three months with no change (he'd glared at Irial the one and only time he'd tried to change it before they'd headed to Mexico).  Irial closed his eyes and could picture the sound of the song playing from the clock-radio in Crispin's hotel room soon accompanied by Crispin's muffled voice, the feel of lips lips ghosting over Irial's torso, grin stretching over the sensitive skin of Crispin's slightly round tummy, hair of his happy trail tickling Crispin's lips, when Crispin's molten gold eyes met Irial's half-open ones singing, " _All I want is the days that your lips allow_ ," breath hot against Irial's skin.  He'd moaned, hips bucking as Crispin pressed open mouth kisses down his pelvis before taking his half-hard dick into his mouth.   

_Sap_ , seriously, but Irial's lips still curved into a smile as he shook his head.  Fuck if he didn't love this boy seriously.   

The crowd went crazy as Crispin finished, cheeks on fire as he bowed his head, handing the guitar to a tech who rushed onstage to take it away as the boys came up, throwing their arms around his shoulders and gently teasing Crispin who just shook his head, grinning wide.   

"This next song," Benji introduced carefully, "is going to be interesting.  Bear with us."   

"Um..." Crispin began slowly, "It's called 'Bulletproof Love' by Pierce the Veil."   

The screams were _deafening_.  Apparently even Korea hadn't been spared the influence of those particular rumors about Crispin's obsession with this song (which, yeah, Crispin had changed his ringtone to on Irial's phone _and_ they had it tattooed on their arms).  So, yeah, Breaking Fourth was singing a PTV original, and Irial was absolutely _not_ crying as he stared down at the stage, shaking his head slowly even as he mouthed the words to the song that Crispin had basically made a household name to droves of people who would never have otherwise known.   

Sue's friend gave him a sidelong glance, and he swallowed, brushing the tears off his cheeks as he looked over and met her eyes.  The girl pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows, "So...I'm guessing Tumblr was right."   

Irial laughed humorlessly, "Wouldn't know.  I don't know _all_ the rumors."   

Rolling her eyes, Sue crossed her arms over her chest, "Really?  You don't know that according to the Crisial shippers conspiracy theories December 19th is the date you and Crispin started dating...and you two had sex to this song."   

Coughing, Irial gaped, turning to look at the stage and glare at Crispin who obviously couldn't see him because he was singing the song that he and Irial had first had sex to two years ago after defining their relationship twenty-four hours before they both left the city.  Irial didn't really follow Tumblr with any seriousness the way that Crispin (and his anonymously obvious) account did, but that didn't mean he didn't know they tended to trend and that their shippers were pretty active on the site.  Apparently, though, this was why Crispin had been so squirrelly when Irial had asked if anything interesting was happening on there just this morning.   

"People _believe_ that?"   

Min-suh, Sue's best friend and an enthusiastic Crisial shipper, nodded, "Of _course_.  We wondered for a long time, but did you _watch_ the Keek video Micah put up?"   

Irial grimaced.  _Yeah, he had_.  They tended to both end up either making out or getting hard during those _occurrences_...despite the fact that the band's management had reamed Irial, Crispin, _and_ Micah within minutes of the video being posting and then _took it down_ despite Harry warning them not to lest it look like they had something to hide about it.  Dissident might think that the two of them singing to each other while smiling coyly, occasionally giving each other touches that, while not necessarily _inappropriate_ , were full of meaning and way too familiar, but, frankly, they should just be glad Micah cut off the video with the two of them gazing heatedly into each other's eyes while singing, faces mere inches apart, because those next five seconds had changed from a sexually charged singing to Crispin clenching his hands into Irial's hair and slamming their lips together, Irial's hands fisting in the back of Crispin's shirt as he pressed as close to him as he could, both of them groaning at the friction.   

_So that had happened._    

" _Min-suh,_ " Sue said sharply before snapping something at her in Korean.   

Irial raised his eyebrows at them, and Min-suh glared at Sue before looking to Irial, dutifully chastised, "Sorry."   

Raising his chin, Irial smiled softly at her even as his stomach tightening and roiled.  _This_ was why he hated all this fucking secrecy, "It's fine.  Not like it doesn't happen all the time."   

"Doesn't mean it _should_ ; it's rude and disrespectful people think that he two of you can't just be friends," Sue huffed.  Min-suh flushed, and Irial quirked an eyebrow and chose not to say anything management would chew him out for later.   

Irial gave Min-suh a reassuring smile, "It's totally fine, darling, yeah?  I _know_ what it looks like.  We _both_ do."   

Min-suh met his eyes, frowning slightly and worrying her bottom lip before grinning widely and nodding, " _Gomapseumnida_."   

Recognizing the word vaguely from Crispin's obsession knowing at least 'hello', 'goodbye', and 'thank you' in whatever country they were in, Irial smiled at her and shrugged, "No need to be so formal, sweetheart.  I don't bite...not girls anyway."   

Both girls giggled, and Irial shrugged and smirked, turning his attention back to the stage as they finished off the most sexual song Irial had ever heard sung on a stage before...granted _not_ what the song was _actually_ about, but he and Crispin had had sex to it too many times for him to think of it in any other connotation.  It never failed to get him hard even however many yards from Crispin, surrounded by teenaged girls and their mothers in the stands of a sold out concert; Crispin, if cameras weren't lying, really didn't look much better, breathless, pupils blown, and licking his bottom lip.   

" _This_ is truly, sadly, the last song of the evening," Micah said, "sorry we've kept your poor parents or guardians out so late.  We humbly apologize."   

The parents laughed politely while some of the crowd cheered and laughed; Micah looked over at Dominic, "See some of you knew this last song...well, I guarantee _none_ of you will know this one."   

"For now," Benji added, "the whole world will once it gets uploaded on YouTube."   

"Quite," Dominic nodded and grinned, "hello YouTube and Tumblr, have you missed us?"   

Crispin finished getting himself together and drinking his water, joining his bandmates and saying, "Since _yesterday_ when that video of you tripping and falling on your arse while trying to wave your shirt over your head in Shanghai was posted?"   

"We weren't supposed to talk about that!  Lord," Dominic joked, feigning embarrassment while the crowd laughed.   

" _Two_ days ago," Micah corrected.   

Dominic scowled, "Does it _matter_?"   

"Of _course_ it matters," all the boys exclaimed looking scandalized.  Dominic held up his hands while Crispin continued, "We'd hate for all these lovely people to think we lied to them."   

"It's not exactly lying," Dominic started.   

"Omission," Crispin clucked his tongue, "is still a lie."   

"It's recognizing you did something wrong—" Micah started, putting a hand on Dominic's shoulder sympathetically while Crispin smothered a laugh at Dominic's blank, irritated face.   

"Or humiliating," Benji added.   

Micah nodded, "Or _humiliating_ and choose to keep quiet instead of being honest.  Be honest and tell all these beautiful people about your embarrassing display of masculinity."   

Crispin snorted, "Is _that_ what we're calling it?"  Irial covered a laugh; he had a point.   

Dominic cut him off, shrilly, "Back to the song!  It's new."   

Benji rolled his eyes.  Micah shook his head.  Crispin took pity, throwing an arm over Dominic's shoulders and nodding, "Right.  It is.  We haven't even recorded it yet, and are probably gonna get shit for randomly playing it today since this is the first and last time we'll be doing this on tour."   

"Not _exactly_ random," Dominic said to Crispin, blinking innocently.   

Crispin gritted his teeth and gave Dominic a flat look before yanking his hair, throwing his hands up innocently when Dominic winced and cursed, rubbing the back of his head.  Benji and Micah continued though, Micah smiling, "This song is called 'The Best Part' and is our dear Crispin's brainchild.  I hope you all enjoy."   

"And upload it onto YouTube so _someone_ can properly tease him tomorrow," Benji stage-whispered.   

Crispin flipped him off.  The crowd laughed, and Irial raised an eyebrow.  He figured that he was probably the _someone_ , but he was seriously concerned about _what_ he'd be teasing him about.  At the same time, his palms sweated, heart pounded, stomach churned, chest tightened.  He wasn't sure he could handle anymore anniversary surprises that would spam his Twitter.  Irial frowned when the band—all wearing shit-eating grins—began to play; he'd never heard the song before...odd since he'd been dragged to almost every rehearsal they'd had, which doubled as prep for their new album, the album they'd basically promised to start recording right after New Year's.   

The boys gave Crispin wide, mischievous smiles that put Irial even more on edge, especially since Crispin adjusted his grip on his microphone nervously.  _What the actual fuck_.   

Then Dominic sang the first verse:

 

> _"Wake up we're in a brand new city_   
> _Breakfast tastes just a little gritty_   
> _Voice on the phone a tad bit tinny_   
> _But I'm always down for a show"_

Dominic grinned at Micah who smiled back wolfishly:

 

> _"People screaming my name_   
> _The one true test of fame_   
> _Through it all can I stay tame?_   
> _Can be a quest for patience"_

They threw their arms around each other and harmonized:

 

> _"But I love where I'm at."_

Irial frowned, wondering where the hell this was leading, especially given the failed subtle looks the boys threw Crispin's way as the music changed and the chorus began:

 

> _"And the best part_   
> _Is coming home to you_   
> _Like everyday all the time_   
> _And the best part_   
> _Is waking up with you_   
> _Knowing that you're in my life_   
> _And the best part_   
> _Is up the whole night through_   
> _The two of us side by side_   
> _The very best part of everyday_   
> _Being together_   
> _Along for the ride"_
> 
> Benji: _"You've got work, I've got to go_  
>  _Be home tonight, so I'm not alone_  
>  _If we can't meet I'll reach you on the phone_  
>  _Not even fight, no matter what"_
> 
> Benji and Crispin: _"I'll be home tonight!"_

It was back to the chorus that most of the room had already picked, trying to sing along to with minimal success.  All around him, Irial could see that the general reaction to the song was positive, as per usual; Irial was used to Crispin writing songs about him and their relationship, especially given the way Crispin wrote lyrics on his un-tattooed arm that remained clear for that singular purpose.  But _this_ was...yeah, and Crispin's solo was...whoa.

 

> Crispin: _"It's our life_  
>  _It's our night_  
>  _It's the way you're always by my side_  
>  _When the road gets tough_  
>  _When we've had enough_  
>  _You'll be there, the very best part of my day"_

Irial gaped, shaky and near tears and just really overwhelmed.  He was itching to wrap his arms around Crispin, burying his face in his neck and just breathe him in.  To kiss him until they were both breathless and shaking, whisper that he loved him unconditionally and wanted to spend the rest of his life ribbing him for being such a romantic little sap in between kissing him senseless because hell if he didn't love him for it.  But it didn't just end at the chorus.   

As if Crispin would leave his anniversary love letter to Irial so blah finished like that.

 

> _"You're the best part of my life_   
> _Coming home to you feels right_   
> _Like all the time just want to hold you in my arms_   
> _Then I wake up with you_   
> _Hold you close to me_   
> _Chest to chest, skin on skin, two hearts as one_   
> _Rocked the whole night through_   
> _Morning, night, and noon_   
> _The best part of my life is you."_

Irial was crying and gripping the railing, struggling for breath as the boys finished, Crispin's voice carrying out the farthest and the strongest, it's shaky edge the only sign he was as shaken by the song as Irial.  The crowd was on their feet for the boys, applauding and cheering.  Irial was wrecked.   

Completely, utterly, unconditionally, _Twilight_ -level of stupidly caught in love.   

And fuck if he wasn't perfectly happy with that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I got a job! Which really isn't an excuse for why I've been MIA for like a week and a half, but there it is. Anyway, I finished writing all of the story except the last chapter so right now it's just a game of editing in between work. The Golden Buddha is literally a giant gold buddha in Bangkok, and Obelisk Beach is a thing...who knew googling nude gay beaches in Australia would require so much research. Jimjilbang is an actual thing, though I don't recommend being sexual in a house of relaxation...people please. Bbopki is sugar candy, but I researched Korean breakfast...and I would have gone with the sugar candy. The ring from the picture is Tiffany's, and it's 1350 Australian dollars and like 600 British pounds. And the song...has no editing because I hate poetry and always second guessing my songs.


	36. "Take It Over" Juliette Ashby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Questions...sort of...get answered. Irial has no sense of professionalism (and is totally going to get them into trouble). The techs and interns are terrified of Cheryl. And management steps in.

**Breaking Fourth Interview with Japanese teen magazine**  
 **Interviewer** : Everyone's talking about your surprise performance of a new song in Seoul  
 **Dominic** : Awww...Crissy!  
 **Interviewer** : You've been writing a lot of love songs. We know Benji and now Micah aren't single. Is there anyone special in your life?  
 **Cris** : Umm...  
 **Dominic** : Hello, me! Why do you deny our love?  
 **Cris** : I don't ever remember doing that, mate.  
 **Benji** : Wait...when did this happen?  
 **Cris** : Nic, you're much too annoying, I don't think this is going to work out. No, but seriously, there's no girl. I just write what I feel. We're not the type to lie about having girlfriends anyway.  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
London! I just want to stare at the Union Jack for the next forever #HomeSweetHome  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@Cris_Emerson Drama queen :)  
  
 **Gigi (@GingerSchnapps)**  
Saw @DorianII @Cris_Emerson being cute at Tesco in Liverpool #CrisialIsReal #HappyChristmasToMe  
  
 **Holden Ireland (@holdtheirish)**  
Fantastic xmas with my fav Brit fam @rosieposie @HaroldBSterling @Ariella_Em106 @DorianII @Cris_Emerson  
  
 **Avery the Shipper (@breaker_breaker)**  
Heard rumors. If @DorianII is secretly dating Rosie's 18yr old bro it would explain the secrecy. #HesLegalNow #AndGoingToUni #AndLivingWithCrisial O.O  
  
 **The Young Brit Celebs Turn Out for New Year's**  
It seems like all the young British celebrities turned out for Cris Emerson and Irial Dorian's co-hosted party at Club Deccord.  The pair greeted huge names including Benji Irving and girlfriend Penelope Dearly, Micah Cross and Cheryl Atterberry (rumored to be Cherrie Taylor of Dorian Speaks), and Dominic Kinsey who spent the evening learning how to bar tend. They also welcomed a number of Breaking Fourth's ex girlfriends, Lavonne, Ani Tiernan, Kimberly Lakshmi, and Jocelyn Penderghast, all the members of Azadi, actor and Dorian's former hookup (despite the fact that he's straight) Charles Beck and best friend Patrick Gallagher.  Also in attendance were several family members of the band including Emma Cross and fiancé, Morgan McCallum, Ariella Emerson, Dorian's best friends and former flatmates, Rosie Ireland and Harry Benton-Sterling, and Holden Ireland who may or may not be dating the radio DJ...cute.

* * *

"What the actual—"   

"Language!  Jesus, Cherrie, if we get one more fucking complaint about our on air cursing, I think someone from corporate will strangle us," Irial lamented before wincing and realizing that he had, in fact, dropped the f-bomb for about the fifth time that day on air.   

Cheryl gave him dry look and tossed her pale pink hair over her shoulder, "Yes, dear heart, _I'm_ the problem."   

"You know what...what is with these antiquated traditions anyway?  Like the youth of the world doesn't curse more than a whole fu-reaking _ship_ full of sailors about to meet Davy Jones?  I mean, I read this story yesterday—fantastic, by the way—"   

"Fanfiction?" Cheryl snickered, waggling her eyebrows.   

Irial narrowed his eyes on her, "So?  It's better than every other LGBTQ book in the genre.  I mean, shit if I read one more damned _synopsis_ of an angst-y teen struggling with his sexuality in the face of his adversary who can't love said character's significant same sex other because of society holding them back from their love I will kill myself.  Like what the actual...never mind.  Like why can't we have a character who's like Katniss Everdeen or Dimitri Belikov or Jace Wayland...that just _happens_ to be gay and doesn't spend all day whining about it."   

"So," Cheryl pursed her lips, "not only were you reading fanfiction, you were reading _Crisial_ fanfiction."   

" _Anyway_ ," Irial glowered at her while Cheryl just blew him a kiss, "don't blow kisses to me like we're _friends_.  The point is, do you have any idea of the dirty minds of the youth these days?  Not that I'm complaining—"

Crispin: Cuz you love fanfic and what would it be if youth was modest?   

Irial snorted at the text message, "Yes, love, quite because I would have no enjoyable LGBTQ reads without dirty minded teenagers.  I appreciate you, I truly, truly do.  But seriously, if teens are writing about sucking cock, giving blow jobs, BDSM—"   

"Thank you, E.L. James for giving us _that_ ," Cheryl added.   

"And anal sex, why the hell can't I say...well _that_ on air.  Who _cares_?  Not my fourteen to twenty something audience _that's_ for sure."

**Crispin** : It's about decorum.   

Irial showed Cheryl the message, and Cheryl laughed aloud, "Yeah, Iri, it's about _decorum_."   

"I hate both of you, honestly."

**Crispin** : :(

**Crispin** : Someone's not getting head tonight.   

Laughing, Irial shook his head, " _That's_ bloody likely."   

"God, there you go again," Cheryl tsked, "half the shit you say on air is nonsensical bullshit to a third party."   

Irial gasped, "I'm _offended_ Cherrie that you would say such a thing."   

Cheryl rolled her eyes, "Well, if we're all quite finished hearing Irial's drivel...it's about that time, which naturally means we'll be taking our usual three caller questions before Irial leaves you all listening to 'Bad Things' by Jace Everett—"   

"Oi! That is a _good_ song.  It was the True Blood theme song.  Can you fucking believe she ends up with Sam after everything?"  Irial cried, smirking.   

"Oh my God shut up!  How _could_ you?  You _know_ I'm only on season two!"   

Irial smirked and finished, "And then the lovely single that somehow got recorded and released in under two months, 'The Best Part' by Breaking Fourth."   

"Iri's favorite band!" Cheryl teased.   

"Um...no," Irial deadpanned.  "I may adore my Crispin, but I'll be damned if I love a British boyband more than Pierce the Veil, Imagine Dragons, _and_ Something Corporate.  _Not gonna happen_.  Anyway caller number one what's your name and from whence are you calling."   

"Dork," Cheryl interred.   

"Ohmigod, hi!  I'm Adrienne and I'm from Billings...Montana...in America."   

"I quite know where it is," Irial said cheekily.  "Hey, have you been to Yellowstone?"   

"Of course!  It's so amazing!  The wildlife is—"   

"Lovely," Cheryl cut off flatly.   

Irial wrinkled his nose at her, "Shut up, Cherrie, I wanted to know!  Crispin quite wants to go there.  It's frightening how much."   

"Cheerful," Cheryl deadpanned, "quite sorry to cut you off, but Irial's wanderlust on his best mate's behalf could go on all day.  What's your question long distance Yankee caller?"   

"Oh...um...yeah...I was just wonder what your favorite place you've been was and why?"   

Cheryl and Irial both hummed thoughtfully; Cheryl went first, "I'd have to say India.  I went there on a quick trip a few years back—"   

"So your boyfriend fucked up massively and was apologizing?"   

"Oh yeah," Cheryl grinned, "but it's so beautiful and peaceful and spiritual.  Even in the poorest areas, there just feels this serenity and soulfulness.  It was quite amazing.  What about you, Dorian?"   

"I actually quite like either New York City or Boston...can't decide, really.  They're both just so unique with so much to so packed in such a tiny area," Irial shrugged.  Cheryl made a noise in the back of her throat; Irial shook off his thoughts, "Second to last bloke, who are you?"   

"Um...Jason Moretz?  I'm a uni student at Manchester and a libra?  And hope to work on like Broadway or something...maybe?"   

Cheryl laughed while Irial pursed his lips, "Alright, I didn't quite mean to give us every detail that makes you who you are as a person, but okay Jason Moretz libra University of Manchester student, ask away."   

"Well, I'm a huge Breaking Fourth fan..."   

"It's funny," Cheryl mused, "we don't get that a lot."   

"Oh, shut up you," Irial rebuked lightly.  "Go on, Jason, ignore the wicked witch of Bristol."   

"Do you remember the first person you fell in love with and who was it?"   

"Micah Cross," Cheryl said, voice faux dreamily despite the sincerity.   

Irial clucked his tongue, "You and half the world, darling."   

"Gag me," Cheryl retorted, "Who was yours?"   

Irial sighed and ran his hands through his hair, "Wow, alright, very few people know this story.  It's probably best that way.  I _really_ don't want to talk about this so we'll make it short and sweet: I'm not going to say his name because...whatever.  Anyway, we were together two years, he was about a year or two older than me, he was closeted and had internalized homophobia that he took out on me.  He was a cheating dickhead.  Incredibly disrespectful.  A total tool.  He broke my heart, and for a very long time, he actually broke _me_.  So, there you have it...not a fun story.  Next."   

Cheryl made a sympathetic face, and Irial rolled his shoulders back and shrugged.

**Crispin** : This fanfic where I'm a prince is fantastic :D

**Irial** : lmao, how did I know you'd like that

**Crispin** : No better than the ones you like of yourself as a footie player   

"Hi..."   

"Hi," Irial echoed cheerfully.   

"Hello..." Cheryl started.   

"Um...I'm Annie from Sheffield...since you're both fans of Breaking Fourth and really harsh music critics, I just wanted to know what you thought of the single."   

"Well..." Cheryl began until Irial cut her off.   

"How old are you Annie from Sheffield?"   

"I'm ten."   

"Lovely, you like Breaking Fourth then?"   

"They're my favorite band."   

"Yeah?  Who's your favorite, then?"   

"Um...Cris," Annie admitted shyly.   

Irial laughed, "Mine too.  Cheryl's making faces, but don't worry, I completely understand.  It's the hair right?"  Annie giggled, "Plus he's a sweetheart...like you."  Cheryl rolled her eyes, and Irial smirked, "Well...let me just start by wishing all our boys a congratulations for pulling out _three_ wins at the People's Choice Awards.  For those who are unaware, they won Best Band, Best Fan Following—"   

"Who you know quite personally after all _your_ adventures," Cheryl pointed out.   

"Quite...and best album for 'The Road' so cheers to that."   

Cheryl cheered, "Where's the Tequila?"   

"Last thing _you_ need, and I quite like the song.  I had my doubts when people thought they'd be the next big boyband, but they've definitely gotten better over the years.  I'm not so ashamed I listen to them now...or so humiliated to say that, yes, I do listen to the single _all the time_ , and, yes, I did make Crispin pay yesterday by singing it to me."   

"Pay for what?"  Cheryl grinned wolfishly, tone suggestively.   

_Exactly that_ , but he couldn't say that, choosing instead to reply, "Get you mind out of the gutter!  Now thank you all for listening, that's all for today folks, I'm Irial Dorian."   

"And I'm Cherrie Taylor, we'll see..."   

"...or hear..."   

"...you right here tomorrow."

**Crispin** : Next time you make me work for a shag, better make it worth my while

**Irial** : Is that you telling me you want to be fucked and ridden tonight?

**Crispin** : bound and gagged

**Irial** : All four? Interesting love but doable

**Crispin** : Not what I meant but that DOES sound promising :3

**Irial** : Slut. tied down impaled on the vibrator choking on your pleas while I ride you

**Crispin** : Slag...and this hard-on I'm getting in studio now is your fault   

Irial laughed, hanging up his hideous orange Beats headphones—a gag gift from Crispin after he'd made a comment about how Irial didn't understand now Hipsters could hate Imagine Dragons for being too mainstream but still buy £300 headphones.  The door opened, and both Cheryl and Irial swiveled to look at the nervous tech who stood in the doorway, "Um..." He began uncertainly.   

"Bradley," Irial drawled, "I know Cherrie's a trigger-happy, knife-slinging, punch-throwing maniac, but I'm not gonna bite.  What's the problem?"   

"You're a prat?"  Cheryl suggested.   

Irial smirked at her, and Bradley just finished anxiously, "Ashton Dwyer and Daniel George from Dissident Management are here to see you."   

Irial and Cheryl shared an alarmed glance, and Irial asked, "Me?"  Bradley nodded, and Irial sighed but waved him off before he passed out, "Alright I'll be right there."   

Cheryl raised her eyebrows, phone already in her hand as she tapped away on it.  She's been on the receiving end of these little powwows before, knew they never ended well for anyone.  Irial had been called into meetings before, but he'd never had one brought to him before, especially not at work.   

Sighing, Irial got to his feet and walked around the table to the door, tapping Cheryl's shoulder and informing her what song absolutely _needed_ to be played tomorrow or added to the list of songs Irial wanted the studio to have as he headed to the door.  She jotted them down dutifully, but it didn't stop her from shooting him a nervous look as he waltzed out the door and into the waiting room.  Spotting the two men, Irial paused for just a minute, eyes skimming over the two assholes before he nodded for them to follow him, leading them to an office and waving them inside.  Whatever was about to go down, nobody was going to like, he figured.   

"Gentlemen..." Irial began as he plopped on the desk, eyes looking over them before he scowled, shook his head, and finished, "...or something like that, how can I help you?"   

Ashton and Daniel glanced at each other before Ashton started talking as Daniel pulled out a file folder, "Mr. Dorian—"   

"It's Greyson, actually, Ashton, if we're _going_ there " Irial said, tossing him a cold smile.   

"We need to talk about your presence on social media, and how it's affecting Cris."   

"You mean, how it's affecting the band's image as a group of blue collar, scandal free heterosexual British boys that are sweet, sexy, and available?  That's why you covered up Cherrie's existence with Jocelyn Penderghast, because Cher doesn't take any bullshit, pulls punches, is crass and loud and has been to jail, right?  And you let him and Cherrie come out under Harry's tutelage because it shut Crispin up for a little; he wasn't going to push when Micah was getting what he'd want for years," Irial embellished for them.   

Ashton gritted his teeth, and Daniel raised his eyebrows, "This isn't about Cheryl and Micah.  Hiding their relationship when she was unstable, in and out of jail, and getting in catfights every other week was best for both of them."  Irial rolled his eyes but didn't disagree...he also didn't point out that half the reason she'd been as bad as she was had been because she'd been home in Bristol alone with her whole family putting pressure on her to get married while her fiancé was far away even when he was in the same country, flitting around town with a size zero supermodel.  Whatever.   

"This is about you and your inability to maintain any type of discretion over social media.  I'm not naive enough to think Cris hasn't over shared certain aspects of his life—"   

" _Over shared_?  We've been together two _years_ ," Irial balked   

"—so I'm coming into this assuming you know about his contract—"   

"You know what they say about assumptions."   

"—a contract you get closer and closer to violating on his behalf!  Do you want to see the results of that?  Do you want to see him lose his career and watch his bandmates life go up in shambles because you selfishly want the world to know you two are together?"   

"Alright, _Ashton_ , let's tone it down a bit, yeah?  Since _Crispin_ and _Irial_ aren't the same person, and _Irial_ wasn't a dumbass fifteen year old who got bamboozled into signing a contract with Dissident that sold my soul for however long, I don't know where you're pulling this crap that you're going to sue Breaking Fourth for what I put up on social networking."   

"He knows your password," Ashton said through his teeth.   

"So we're encouraging invasion of privacy?  And how the hell do you even know that?"   

Daniel cut in before Ashton strangled Irial, "The world knows.  That's the problem."   

He held up the folder, and Irial took it, flipping through message after message of things probably better left unsaid over the Internet.  There were pictures of them being a little to handsy and a little too close, including one of them outside their flat nearly two days ago both of them with their sunglasses on, Irial in his leather jacket and smoking a cigarette while Crispin's arm was around his shoulders, sides pressed together and Marius sitting at their feet as Crispin chatted with their neighbor.  It could be interpreted as two very close friends talking, but it looked too fluid and too natural to really hold up under scrutiny with that explanation.  On top of the pictures were printouts of _dozens_ of Tumblr posts about them, including one that apparently Crispin had responded to... _sigh, his boyfriend_.   

"I want it known I find it really creepy you stalk Tumblr for this," Irial said before closing the folder and shrugging, "What exactly do you want?  I can't stop speculation, _won't_ outright lie to a bunch of impressionable teenagers, and you have no sense of privacy and can just delete Crispin's Tweets, which are just as bad as mine.  Also, this Tweet about me knowing a secret from two weeks ago should be stricken from the record.  I was actually talking about the thing I got Crispin that he nearly found until I smack his hand away like the child he is.  I was _taunting_ him not baiting the masses."   

"We want your Twitter password and you to sign a contract about keeping your relationship private and giving us the right to delete Tweets that are contrary to the band's interest," Ashton commented.   

Irial blinked at him, "Hell no.  I've seen how contracts with you go, and I'm not _signing_ anything.  And you're mad if you think I'd ever hand you my twitter password."   

"There will be a contract.  And it will either be for you to hand over your password or for you not to Tweet at or about Cris and the band _at all_ or put up pictures of them and vice versa."   

"Does Cris know about this?"  They looked at each other in silence, and Irial nodded knowingly, "So basically, you didn't tell him because you knew he wouldn't agree to this bullshit without me signing on first, neither would the rest of the boys because they're _humans_ too, not just _businessmen_.  And I'm guessing this is why Harry isn't here, either, because he told you that this was a stupid idea! That it would make me angry, and come back to bite you in the arse so he wanted no part in it."   

"Understand that if you don't do this we'll take the band to court for breach of contract," Ashton warned.   

"That'll never hold up in court."   

Daniel shrugged, "Would you like to find out?"   

Irial stared at them for a minute before saying slowly, "So, just to be clear, this is you threatening me."  They said nothing, and Irial nodded slowly, "You can leave now."   

Ashton smiled wanly at Irial, "We'll be in touch."   

He said nothing, watching them exit, and sigh when the door slammed shut behind them.

Irial: Your management are delusional fuckers who should listen to Harry

Crispin: ...what are you going to do?

Irial: exactly what they asked and more   

He could practically feel Crispin frowning from here, but his management had dug this hole and now they could lie in it.  Naturally, then he got onto Twitter for the last time in who knows how long and sent the Tweet heard round the world...it trended in five minutes.

* * *

**Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
Silence is better than bullshit...so that's how is has to be #FuckCensorship #HarrysASmartCookie  
#kissmyass #EnjoyTheFallout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look...I feel the way I feel about published LGBTQ novels; I read slash fanfiction to get my LGBTQ feels fix, it actually has nothing to do with the genre or the fandom. I just need to read a book that isn't sad and depressive. I've found like two books that didn't make me want to pull out my hair. If you know some like J.R. Ward's newest book in which the two gay characters are awesome, badass, and warriors as opposed to black holes of miserable depression, please dear God let me know.


	37. "Wanna Feel You Now" Patricia Kazadi and M. Pokora

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irial gets all romantic...but he might be a little bit of a sadist. Cris's nervous so...cue the dramatic irony.

**Breaking Fourth sweeps at Brit Awards**  
Not for the first time in their career, or even this year, British boyband, Breaking Fourth, swept at an awards show to win every title the were nominated for: Best British Group, Best Song for hit '365', and Best Album for 'The Road'.  This on the heels their single 'The Best Part' reaching number one on billboards throughout Europe and North America after being released in mid-January and the single's music video, released only days ago, already receiving fantastic reception.  Looks like after five years, Breaking Fourth is look at yet another fantastic year.  
  
 **< 3Crisial Shipper<3 (@PaigeBrend49)**  
Is no one going to talk about @DorianII matching Burberry blazers with @Cris_Emerson for #BritAwards? #Crisial #LetsTalk  
  
 **Breakers took the Brits (@bumbleBea_)**  
Is no one going to talk about how @DorianII WENT to the Brits, sat behind @breakingfourth, and talked to @Cris_Emerson through the whole thing? #Crisial #LetsTalk  
  
 **Yearning for Irving (@bj_4_benji)**  
Is no one going to talk about how delusional #Crisial shippers are? #ThisIsWhyDorianIsOffline  
  
 **The Best Part (@dorians_crispin)**  
@bj_4_benji actually, it's not. He all but said on Twitter and air Dissident pissed him off by censoring him #BlameDissident #FuckOff #ItsNotAlwaysUs  
  
 **Mickey (@Mickeymau5)**  
Not even into @breakingfourth but if Dissident doesn't return @DorianII I will cut a bitch #FuckDissident #KissMyAss  
  
To: sawyer.ashton@dissidentmanagement.com.uk; george.daniel@dissidentmanagement.com.uk  
BCC: wildechild@gmail.com.uk; rosieireland@gmail.com  
From: sterling.harry@dissidentmanagement.com.uk  
Subject: RE: Dorian's Twitter  
Gentlemen, we've had this conversation already, and I'd rather not rehash it. I informed you weeks ago that backing Irial Dorian into a corner when it comes to his freedom on Twitter and Instagram wouldn't be good for anyone. He refuses to back down, says he's doing as you requested, and has issued you an ultimatum you refuse to consider. There's nothing I can do. I work crisis management; I'm not a miracle worker or a maid.  
Harry Benton-Sterling  
Dissident Management  
  
 **RT by @CrisialUpdate**  
 **The Countdown (@darlingdori)**  
@DorianII offline 28 days...happy fucking Valentines #FuckDissident

* * *

"We're going to start off with the Donegal Bay Mussels, one dozen please.  I'm going to have fish and chips, and he'll have the Irish Lamb Burger, medium rare please," Cris ordered as soon as the starstruck waitress finished being...well...starstruck and nodded profusely, taking their order.  Irial raised an eyebrow at Cris, amused, but didn't say anything in disagreement with what Cris had ordered for the pair of them.   

As she gathered their menus nervously, Cris tugged the end of his hair and smirked over at Irial who simply rolled his eyes at Cris and asked, "And what if I wanted fish and chips?  I've been craving seafood, love."   

Cris grinned and shrugged, "We're sharing anyway.  When do we ever _not_?"  Irial rolled his eyes and tapped his fingers on his phone absentmindedly; Cris's grin widened, "Suffering from withdrawal yet?"   

Irial gave him a dirty look, "It's been nearly a month.  I want to throttle your management, truly.  I feel like I've lost a vital part of my soul."   

"Yes, I'm sure it must be terrible not be able to tell everyone what a hopeless romantic sap you secretly are," Cris clucked his tongue, grinning widely at his boyfriend.   

Wrinkling his nose, Irial shook his head, "That's quite enough from you.  Sappiness is _your_ job...this was a one time thing.  And it's Valentine's Day."   

"That's your excuse?"   

Irial half-shrugged, "We needed to detox.  You love horses.  And I didn't have enough vacation time saved up to whisk you away to Paris...or Greece...or Pamplona, because I _really_ want to go back there again.  It's just so fucking cute, I swear."   

"Were those options?"   

"Of course, but I've got bigger plans for the other twelve days of vacation I have saved, Crispin; besides, you love this shit."   

Despite the flippant tone, the light in the back of Irial's eyes and utter contentedness that had just seemed to relax over him since they'd arrived in County Donegal, Ireland Friday evening, four days before Valentine's Day, negated that sentiment.  Cris just grinned as he took a sip of his coke, eyes alight on Irial who met his gaze, edges of his lips curling up while he shook his head and rolled his eyes like he wasn't pleased by how much Cris adored him and appreciated what he'd done for Cris, especially for Valentine's Day.   

Irial had to have been planning this for a while.  They'd flown from London to Ireland (and Cris his been spotted while Irial, thankfully and rather artfully, had not) and ended up at a little farm/Bed and Breakfast outside of Bundoran in Donegal.  They'd spent the past three days doing one of Cris's favorite things: horseback riding...and really nothing else other than shagging every night until they both collapsed, breathless and exhausted, on top of each other, and in the morning before they washed the residual come from the previous night off during their shared shower and/or afterwards.  Irial had certainly done his research, though, when he'd picked Donegal as their destination; it had beaches, moorlands, forests, hills, small towns dotting the beautiful, breathtaking landscape.  During the day, they'd done little else other than ride across the land, Cris stopping them every now and then to take pictures, and eating at tiny, sketch places they found along the way.   

Cris's eyes trailed over Irial, leaning back in his chair and appearing more relaxed than he'd been since they'd come back.  Between Irial's ongoing war with management and his annoyance with having everybody think he was dating Holden, who'd only just moved out to London after graduating and turning eighteen, his life hadn't been fun or easy; he'd been wading through the muck as best as he could while hoping and praying that Rosie didn't get fed up first and beat him with a stick, especially after she'd found out that Holden and Irial had kissed three years ago when Holden was questioning his sexuality.  Their relationship had been as fantastic as ever besides the initial stress of dealing with Dissident, but Irial had been haggard and tired, running himself ragged on the show so that he could still _give his all_ to his listeners without being able to really give his all since he couldn't relate his whole life on Twitter as per usual.   

Irial was frustrated.   

Despite all of that, though, he'd still planned a four-day trip for the two of them horseback riding around Ireland on beaches and moors and plains.  It had been beautiful, thoughtful, and romantic, which Cris knew Irial was capable of if he tried, but never figured he would...not because he didn't love Cris enough but simply because Irial hated feeling vulnerable.  When he already felt so beat up, it didn't seem plausible that he would expose himself the way he did, even to Cris...but here they were, sitting in a pub in Ireland both smelling like horses, hair windblown, faces flushed from hours riding through the chilly February air, and dressed about as down as they could possibly be in ancient boots, worn jeans, thermals and fleece jacket, munching on the mussels the waitress had brought them.   

His lips curved into a wide, loving smile as he looked over at Irial, who threw back a mussel, silent and thoughtful, "Iri."   

"Hmm?" He looked over at Cris and raised an eyebrow, "What, princess?"   

"I love you," Cris told him sincerely.   

Irial started to smile slowly, cheeks heating as he shook his head, "Is this the part where the sap comes in?"   

Cris nodded, and Irial laughed, linking their hands together under the table and lowering his head to discreetly press a kiss to Cris's knuckles.  His breath caught just from that one slight kiss, eyes wide on Irial who laughed at him gently, poking him in the cheek; Cris flushed and scooted his chair closer to Irial's so he could lean into his side.   

Discretion was not their strong suit, he'd noticed.  Irial was, admittedly, much better about it than Cris when it came to some things; he, at least, _thought_ about shit before he did it.  Cris meanwhile was thoughtful about everything _other_ than what he did with Irial or for Irial or because of Irial.  Everything in his life involving Irial was a reflex and a reaction—like melting into his side in the middle of a pub—with thoughts of consequences coming later when he got a call or email from his management.   

Thankfully, it was a Tuesday, which meant the pub was mostly filled with adults on working lunches, aging men who'd come for a drink and a chat, and families with kids far too young to know who Cris was—who did now after he and Irial had spent twenty minutes chatting with a woman as she waited for her husband, Cris holding her baby on his hip and cooing to it softly while the little boy had just giggled delightedly; the look Irial had thrown him had been half-exasperated fondness and half-thoughtful, which Cris didn't _really_ understand but counted it as a win, regardless.  Actually the _only_ people in the bar who knew who they were was the wait staff and bartender.  The bartender being a twenty-two year old who adored Irial's show and begged him to return to Twitter so he wouldn't be so epically bored at work...who Irial trusted not to post any sketch pictures of them online because " _my_ fans have _class_ "...which was such an embellished lie, Cris had just laughed, wrapping his arms around Irial when he'd tried to move away and burying his face in Irial's hair.  The wait staff consisted of their waitress and another girl, both in their early twenties who had gasped and balked when they'd spotted Cris until the hostess, a tough middle aged woman, had smacked both of them with a menu; the manager had taken one look at the pair of them at their table and the gossiping waitresses before confiscating both their phones with a goodnatured smile at Cris and Irial, who'd only stifled laughter.   

It was a nice gesture though, and one Cris really appreciated.   

"I love you," Cris repeated, promised.   

Irial went even redder, ducking his head and grinning broadly, nodding, "I know."   

"Iri," Cris whined.   

Snickering, Irial looked up and met Cris's gaze, holding it, smile sliding off his face and being replaced with a soft, genuine expression, "I love you too, Crispin...a lot...disgustingly...my mum thinks we should talk to someone about our level of co-dependency."   

Cris pouted, "That's such a lie, your mother adores me."   

"Don't remind me," Irial scowled, expression shifting abruptly into a grin when their waitress came bearing food.  He made a choked, triumphant noise, "Sustenance."   

"Drama queen," Cris rolled his eyes fondly at Irial before looking up at their waitress, beaming, "Thank you."  Her eyes went wide, and she scurried away quickly while Irial sniggered; Cris pursed his lips and looked down at Irial, still curled into his side and holding his hand tightly in his lap as he grinned down at his burger, "Did I turn into Chuckie when I wasn't looking?"   

"Absolutely, love, that's why I love you.  The homicidal Hipster maniac thing you've got going on is a total turn-on," Irial choked on laughter halfway through, and Cris made a face, ignoring his better judgement and biting Irial on the shoulder instead.  Irial froze, blunt nails digging into the back of Cris's hand and choking out a breathy whine as Cris dragged his teeth over clothe-covered skin; Irial's cock hardened under their entwined hands, and Cris grinned impishly at his boyfriend.  Irial took a sip of his drink and shook his head, "Maybe you shouldn't do that in public."   

"Why?" Cris pressed his hand down against the bulge in Irial pants, and Irial bit back a moan, bowing his head, "Because you're half-hard already?"   

Cris untangled their fingers and palmed Irial through his jeans, and Irial cursed, hips canting up into the touch automatically; he caught Cris's hand though and stilled it, "Crispin, I swear if you don't stop right now I'll bend you over the bathroom counter and pound into you so hard you won't be able to walk, and I won't give a _fuck_ who walks in or who hears, yeah?"   

His dick twitched at that suggestion, but he carefully pulled back his hand.  Irial _would_ , because his boy had this interesting fascination with semi-public sex, knew from Rosie he'd done it before and would do it again because, in Harry's words, he was "a bit of an exhibitionist".  Cris had learned the hard way when he'd been balls deep in Irial on the living room chaise when Ariella and Holden had walked in.  It had been a tad bit scarring for everyone involved, especially Ariella and Cris, but Irial's only response had been to drop from his hands to his elbows, rolling his hips back into Cris, changing the angle and taking Cris deeper; Cris had groaned, thrown his head back and rutted against Irial, completely forgetting about his sister and houseguest.  He'd gotten a shoe thrown at his head later from his sister (a moment before she'd raised her eyebrows and said "but fuck I so get why all those shippers want a sex tape, that was _hot_ "), but really didn't need a lecture or a lawsuit from his management because he couldn't keep his hands off or dick out of his boyfriend in public.   

Irial laughed and rested his hand too high on Cris's thigh, fingers running along the inseam of his jeans, ghosting over his crotch.  Cris's dick twitched, and he stiffened while Irial laughed and pulled his hand away, letting it rest on Cris's thigh; he wrinkled his nose at Irial who picked up one of Cris's fries and tossed it in his mouth, "Is sex all you ever think about?"   

"I'm a man," Irial shrugged, giving Cris a sidelong glance and a cheeky smile, offering him an onion ring.   

Cris took it, "I knew it; you only brought me to get into my pants."   

"I already did that," Irial mused, cocking his head, " _several_ times over, in several _interesting_ places, if I remember correctly."   

Blushing, Cris took a bite of his cod, trying to hide his reddening cheeks from Irial who only took a bite of his burger, one-handed, and stifled his laughter.  It was probably way too cold and highly inappropriate to have had sex in the places they had, which included the beach (not nearly as romantic as it sounds when its forty degrees with wind and on sand after coming on someone's already sweat-slicked skin) and the moors (which had been a little better and completely _Cris's_ fault for letting a make-out session get out of hand when he'd shoved his pants down and turned him over so that he could rim Irial until he was keening and shaking and desperate for friction...and Cris had had lube...whatever).   

"Actually," Cris corrected, "I think that was _me_ getting into _your_ pants, babe."   

Irial frowned, "We'll have to fix that then."   

His eyes darted over to Irial who was looking at him heatedly, and Cris ducked his head but beamed before shaking his head and offering Irial a forkful of his cod.  Irial ate it right off the fork and raised his eyebrows appreciatively.  He offered Cris a bite of his burger, and Cris took it, frowning but nodding, " _I_ like it, but they cooked it too much."   

"It's _medium_ ," Irial grimaced, and Cris rolled his eyes and switched their plates, Cris had to exert actual _effort_ into not leaning over and kissing the corner of Irial's mouth when he gave him a slight, wide-eyed, shy smile.   

Cris took another bite of the burger and glanced sideways at Irial, stomach flipping nervous, "I was actually going somewhere."  Irial nodded, picking back up on the direction of conversation; Cris took a deep breath, and Irial raised his eyebrows, looking over at him, "I want to move."   

Irial went cold, still, and hard so fast that Cris literally didn't even see it, he'd been too busy blinking.  He could feel the distance Irial was putting between them when he nodded his head and said flatly, "Alright."   

Frowning, Cris realized how _that_ had sounded and backtracked quickly, "Ah, no, that came out wrong.  I didn't mean I want to move out, stupid," Cris hooked his ankle around Irial's, leaning even more into him, and Irial relaxed against Cris, face still guarded and hand clenched on Cris's thigh without even seeming to realize it.  "I was thinking...I mean we should...it could be nice if...we should buy a house."   

_There it was._

Cris looked at Irial nervously, and he said nothing, taking another bite of his fish and them taking a long swallow of his drink.  He put his glass down carefully, never once even glancing at Cris who was worrying his bottom lip and focusing on breathing properly, palms sweating and heart slamming against his ribcage.  Maybe he'd misjudged...maybe this wasn't a good idea...maybe they weren't ready for that kind of a commitment, but, like, they were already leasing a flat together...buying a house was logical, right?  For Marius.  And their families.  And fuck he would have proposed if Irial wasn't so anti-marriage; he'd never been one of those people who acted like they wanted to run every time the word came up in casual conversation, but he'd made it quite clear that marriage was so not in the cards for him.  And, okay, Cris was't a girl; he knew that going into this.  He wasn't going to freak out about this.  It wasn't a cop-out...right?   

Taking a breath and preparing to say something, Irial stopped abruptly, and Cris had a mini heart attack when the waitress appeared, "Everything good?"   

She looked about two seconds away from passing, which is really how Cris _felt_.   

_Breathe, girl, breathe._

"We're great," Irial insisted, giving her a thin smile; it was a dismissal.  She took the hint.   

Cris was actually jealous of the breath she exhaled as she walked away.   

"You want us to buy a house together?"   

_I mean...really?_   All that buildup for him to restate the question?   

Shifting nervously, Cris nodded, "Yeah."   

Irial nodded thoughtfully, "Is this because you want to kick Holden and Ariella out?  Because of the dog?  Or because you want me invested in something so it's harder for me to run away again?"   

For a moment Cris tried to be insulted, but after a minute under Irial's amused look, Cris caved, "If Ariella and Holden do not move out of my home by next year so I can have sex on the piano or give you a blow job in the kitchen before breakfast or _whatever_ , I will kill them both.  _Honestly_ , why is my sister living with me?  Why is your basically adopted brother living with us?  If they're not gone, I will be... _we_ will be.  I should be allowed to shag without recrimination in my own house."   

A smirk spread across Irial's lips, "Recrimination?"   

"And the dog needs space.  _We_ need space."   

"We're two people.  A flat has more than enough space, _especially_ ours."   

"We're two people with a truck load of friends close by.  Who enjoy parties and outdoors without nosy neighbors—"   

"Are we talking about Lisette and Annelise?  They're the only two teenagers in the _whole complex_ who know you live there.  They didn't even take pictures of us when they caught us making out in the rose garden or say anything online, just asked for autographs and a photo with you."   

"I don't want people asking me for photos and autographs at _my home_.  I don't want to end up being outed on a social networking site because one of the other two hundred some teens in our building took a picture of us making out while the dog digs around in the garden—"   

"Really, love, two _hundred_?  Dramatic."   

"We have like eleven people between us for family not even including Rosie and Harry.  And the dog should be able to go outside when we're not home.  And I want to be able to kiss you and play footie with you in backyard without having to worry about random people taking pictures.  I want us to be able throw parties, because we both like them.  And I want a garden, and you want a cat and that weird Australian shepherd mix puppy you saw in that shelter I told you not to go into.  I want to have our whole family over for Christmas and New Years and various other holidays.  And I want—"   

"You want to play house with me," Irial said, face pinched.   

"Yes!" Cris exclaimed, and Irial raised his eyebrows.  Cris floundered for a minute before blushing, "Except for the married part, because I know how you feel about that."   

"Oh good, then, so this isn't going to be a proposal too," Cris winced, shifting in his seat, and Irial squeezed Cris's thigh until he stilled, meeting his warm gaze and finding him smiling softly at Cris.  "Alright, sounds good, love, don't panic," Cris beamed, and Irial shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, obviously trying not to do something publicly that they'd both regret tomorrow when management ate them alive for it.  He took a sip of his drink and shrugged, "A house we can do, but still no on the marriage front because..." Irial shuddered, and Cris's smile dropped slightly.   

God, what he wouldn't give to marry Irial, but Irial looked over at him, giving him a fond, bright smile, and Cris smiled back reflexively.   

It was okay.  As long as he had Irial, he could live without a marriage.


	38. "RUN RUN RUN" Celeste Buckingham

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seventy-three days...'nuff said

**Text message from Cris to Iri**  
 **Cris** : Your 2mil twitter followers are about to rebel. 2mo without their deity  
 **Iri** : Lol, yes, and I see your Tumblr has helped calm the storm so much  
 **Cris** : Hey I didn't post anything...  
 **Iri** : Because you reblogged EVERYTHING  
 **Cris** : I miss Twitter us :(  
 **Iri** : :* congrats on the KCAs and being slimed...and are you actually going to make it home in time for Soren's bday party?  
 **Cris** : Power of positive thinking :P  
 **Iri** : hj, bj, rj...:D?  
 **Cris** : You don't need positive thinking for that, you just need to ask...and stop watching G.B.F...doubt we'll have time for all those at once though so I'll suck you off at home when I get back, give you an hj on the ride over, and then lick you out when we get from the party and I have time to pound balls deep into your ass too  
 **Iri** : omfg x_x...........<3 XD  
  
 **B4 Updates (@B4_Updates)**  
@breakingfourth won 2 KCAs, got slimed, and released new single 'Whatever You Say' #DiedAndGoneToHeaven #SoMuchB4  
  
 **RT by @CrisialUpdates**  
 **Crispin Emersom (@Cris_Emerson)**  
The nerve of some people to think we're all equal. 911 it's me to the rescue, if i don't speak who's gonna tell you. I'm here to crash your party #ThisIsRidiculous #DropIt  
  
 **RT by @CrisialUpdates @rosieposie @sorensoars @Cherrie_TA @EmmaCross**  
 **The Countdown (@darlingdori)**  
@DorianII offline 73 days #FuckDissident trending 15  
  
 **Breaking Fourth (@breakingfourth)**  
Shooting the video for 'Whatever You Say'...Little Venice is lovely :)  
  
To: wildechild@gmail.com.uk  
CC: sterling.harry@dissidentmanagement.com.uk; george.daniel@dissidentmanagement.com.uk  
From: sawyer.ashton@dissidentmanagement.com.uk  
Subject: Meeting about you Twitter  
Mr. Greyson  
It has come to my attention that perhaps the course of action taken recently regarding your Twitter might have been hasty and not entirely well thought out. In light of this gross error in judgement, we would like you to come to Dissident today to renegotiate previously set terms and guidelines for you Twitter usage.  I understand you work until 17:00, so let's make it 18:00 then?  
Ashton Sawyer  
Dissident Management  
  
To: sawyer.ashton@dissidentmanagement.com.uk  
Cc: sterling.harry@dissidentmanagement.com.uk; george.daniel@dissidentmanagement.com.uk  
Bcc: rosieireland@gmail.com  
From: wildechild@gmail.com.uk  
Subject: RE: Meeting about your Twitter  
Ashton,  
I'm sure that by 'hasty and not well thought out' and 'gross error in judgement' you mean your misguided and ill-advised attempts to threaten me by threatening Breaking Fourth with a lawsuit. Regardless, I have a dinner at 19:00 so we won't have time for you talk me in circles. I have places to be that don't involve sitting in your office trying to bullshit me. So, I will see you at 18:00 for thirty minutes at most.  
See you then,  
Irial Greyson

* * *

The Dissident Management office building was sterile..and cold...all contemporary glass, steel, and marble.  It smelled like bleach and sounded like the click of a million keyboards.  And everyone owned a fucking Blackberry...and Macbooks...and suits, dear God there were so many suits.   

It was a bit like how Irial pictured hell...or, at least, it's reception area.   

Irial felt a bit like a slob in his skinny jeans and Crispin's oversized Jack Willis hoodie, and Rosie was downright shocking like holy, fuck: color.  She cocked her head and met Irial's eyes before rolling her own.  He grinned; that was why he'd brought her.  Rosie was unfazed, unfettered, and unafraid of saying her piece no matter who she was speaking to; plus, she was clear-head and not exactly directly involved.  Cris figured if anyone could keep this meeting on track and productive, it was Rosie Ireland.   

"Christ, it's like a fucking hospital in here; I'm afraid to speak above a whisper.  They'll pull some new age weaponry and annihilate me for not using my quiet voice," Rosie whispered.   

"You have a quiet voice?"   

"You certainly don't, Jesus, they're going to crucify us," Rosie nodded to the twenty-year-olds tossing them the stink-eye.   

Irial rolled his eyes, "Interns, buzz off.  I'm sure you've got work to be doing...like booking a gig or making threats about contract breaches or coercing more fifteen year olds into signing contracts."   

Rosie just smiled wanly and shooed them away, looking sideways at Irial, "Really?  You have no self control, do you?"   

"We lived together for three years, and you still have to ask?"   

"No wonder you need me.  Dumb, dumb, dumb, besides those brain-dead mouth-breathers probably have no idea what the fuck you're talking about."   

Irial shrugged, "Just a little food for thought like don't do drugs or don't have sex without protection."   

"Even if you're on the pill?" Rosie mused, adopting a breathy, airy voice.   

He sighed, "Who am I kidding?  You're living proof no one listens to public service announcements."   

"Hey!  I'll have you know it was Holden who was conceived on birth control.  I am au naturale."   

Irial gave her a bland look only a moment before his phone started blaring 'Loving You Is Easy' by Union J, shattering the near silence of the room again.  Everyone looked over at him, and Rosie giggled.  Irial just pursed his lips and fished his mobile out of his pocket leisurely.  Fuck the police, seriously.

Crispin: You grab the stuff I need?

Iri: Depends...did you grab the good stuff?

Crispin: No, they were sold out of strawberry flavored lube. Got boysenberry condoms instead  
  
Laughing at the reference, Irial nodded his head, ignoring the side-eyed, long-suffering look Rosie shot him...what the fuck ever.  He was chill and happy...and she was just upset that he still hadn't proposed to Crispin yet.  Whatever, though, he had a plan, one that didn't involve his management's fuckery or their friends or their families or even their dog, because Crispin was basically salivating for marriage, though he kept trying so hard not to be thinking it made Irial uncomfortable, that he'd be damned if his proposal wasn't damn near perfect and didn't include some earth-shattering sex afterwards.

Iri: YES! My movie :D

Crispin: I could have been serious :(

Iri: Right...when, exactly, was the last time this relationship even saw rubber?

Crispin: ...um...when I came home from tour and fucked you against the counter   

Irial coughed and shook his head, because Crispin had this way of just saying shit, completely innocent and without any sort of sexual connotation at all that went straight to Irial's dick.  Like he'd genuinely been answering the question with zero intention to make Irial half-hard and turned on in any way at all...which might be exactly what was so damn sexy about it anyway.

Crispin: You're hard, aren't you?

Crispin: Ashton's murdering me with his eyes...it's your fault.   

Blinking in surprise, Irial began to type out the obvious question when the door to Ashton's office was yanked open.  Irial looked up and found himself face to face with Crispin whose mouth dropped open in an 'O' of surprise.  The rest of the boys filed out behind him, whispering to themselves while Irial got up, tucking his phone in his pocket and raising his eyebrows at Crispin, "Not happy to see me, princess?"   

"Not really," Crispin admitted, shaking off his surprise and pulling Irial into a tight hug and kissing his temple before putting a hand on his cheek and giving him a long hello kiss that Irial grinned into, the butterflies that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in his stomach fluttering around full force like a fucking tornado.   

"Iri?" Dominic asked.   

"What are you doing here?"  Micah asked hesitantly, like he was afraid to know the answer.   

"Excellent question," Crispin added, turning to Irial, "I thought you had a meeting."   

Irial sighed, "Yeah, a meeting from hell."   

"With the devil himself," Rosie intoned before grinning, "that's why you brought my heavenly ray of sunshine and joy along with you."   

"Heavenly ray of...what are you going on about?" Irial questioned.   

The boys just balked at her, utterly taken aback.  Crispin recovered first, shaking his head, "So this is...what?  Good cop, bad cop?"   

"Bad cop, worse cop?" Dominic suggested.  Rosie hit him in the stomach, and Irial just pursed his lips and shrugged...yeah, actually, kind of like that.   

"Mr. Greyson," Ashton said from the doorway, tone icy and expression hard,   

Irial beamed, brightly, knowing it would piss Ashton off, "Ashton, lovely to see you again I feel like it's been...well, seventy-three days since I last looked upon your glory."  The boys stifled their laughter; Rosie crossed her arms over her chest and sized him up.  Crispin wrapped an arm around Irial's waist and buried his head into Irial's neck, smile curving against Irial's skin but invisible to Ashton's eyes.   

Lips pressed in a tight line, Ashton somehow managed to say, "That's awfully specific."   

"I can hardly take the credit...there's a counter."   

"There's also a count of how long you and Cris have been closeted," Rosie slanted.  Ashton shot her a venomous look.   

Irial hummed thoughtfully, "Is it accurate?"   

"Nearly," Crispin commented against Irial's skin, head shooting up and chin resting on Irial's shoulder.   

"And you are?"  Ashton demanded.   

"My plus one?"  Irial suggested.   

"American psycho?" Dominic added.   

"My flatmate," Harry said, appearing behind Ashton and taking everything in rather calmly, expression unwavering.   

"All of the above," Rosie nodded her head.   

"This is not a party!" Ashton gritted, losing his cool facade.  The boys all seemed to gape at him while Irial just smirked, used to seeing this side of the man.   

"No, it's a stay of execution," Rosie pointed out demurely.  "Yours, if I've been following correctly.  Irial doesn't trust you.  Cris doesn't trust you.  I don't trust you.  Consider this moral support...or someone with zero real interest who you can't threaten with lawsuits because I'm not really involved.  Any more questions?"   

Utter silence for a moment while Irial grinned at Rosie who held Ashton's gaze, unwavering.  Some days he was just so damn proud to be her friend...other days pushing her off Big Ben seemed pretty tame as far as he was concerned.  Crispin broke the silence, asking, "Can I sit in on this meeting?"   

"No," Ashton said decisively.  "This doesn't directly deal with Breaking Fourth, therefore your presence is unnecessary in this meeting."   

Rosie choked on a laugh.  Harry looked heavenward, shook his head, and threw his hands up, utterly finished.  Irial gaped at him, and Crispin pursed his lips, quirking an eyebrow at Ashton, who clearly didn't expect reactions quite like that.  "Um..." Micah began hesitantly, "I highly doubt you convinced Irial to dump Twitter using speeding tickets and a backlog of dirty pictures."   

"Dirty pictures?" Rosie reiterated.   

Irial rolled his eyes, "As if dirty pictures are any sort of threat.  I'm sure I have some questionable ones on Instagram."   

"Never mind your Tumblr," Crispin and Rosie said in tandem.   

"Exactly," Micah pointed out, "shameless."   

Irial felt like he should probably be upset about being described as 'shameless' but figured that he was and should just own it instead of trying to hide that part of himself.  After all, once you get caught by all of your closest friends having sex in wildly inappropriate places and put artistic (no facial shots) or yourself in sexual situations on the internet, all bets were off when it came to things like "modesty" and "conservativeness".  Plus, it was because of his Instagram that people believed his elusive virtual boyfriend actually existed (never mind that he did but that was neither here nor there).  Crispin had quite the obsession with Tumblr and had taken a number of interesting photos of the two of them nude, bodies entwined, or making out...and had posted the pictures on Irial's Tumblr instead of his own, because, while few people believed the Tumblr belonged to Crispin, a lot of them still suspected.  Clearly, Irial wasn't the only shameless one in this relationship.   

"This isn't a negotiation; Daniel, Harry, and I will be talking to Irial—"   

"And Rosie," she added for him.   

Ashton sighed and ran a hand over his face, "—alone."   

Crispin rolled his eyes and pressed a kiss to Irial's lips and then forehead, throwing Ashton an annoyed glance; Irial huffed out a laugh and gave Crispin one last peck before throwing his arm around Rosie's shoulders and leading her into the room, sharing a long look with Harry who turned and stalked into the room, perching on the edge of the desk, flipping his mobile in his hands and staring thoughtfully at the ceiling.   

The door closed behind them, and Ashton folded himself into the seat behind his desk, resting his head on his folded hands.  Daniel sat off to the side, frowning down at his laptop, occasionally looking up from the screen to flit his eyes between them all nervously; he seemed perfectly decent, nice and quiet, but, then again, so did Harry.  Irial knew from experience that the quietest people tended to be sharks, neither man was an exception to the rule.   

"So, Irial..."   

"So, Ashton...are we giving up the pretenses?"  Irial asked genially.   

Ashton tossed him a wan smile, "You've been causing quite a few problems as of late."   

"Me?"  Irial asked innocently, "I haven't been doing anything except going to work and home and the occasional party."   

"And award show," Daniel remarked.   

Rosie sighed and rolled her eyes, "Christ, is it always like this?  Can we just skip the bullshit please?  Ain't nobody got for...this," she made a sweeping gesture to encompass the whole room, and Irial smiled and shrugged.   

"You told me either to hand over my password or stop direct Tweeting to or about any member of Breaking Fourth.  I did exactly what you asked...it's not my fault you didn't like the result.  I told you that you wouldn't like the consequences.  Harry told you not to cross me when it comes to social networking.  You want to play this game with me, fine, but you'd better be prepared to deal with fallout.  I'm not your pawn, and, unlike those boys out there, I don't pay you to tell me how to behave."   

"I believe...you misunderstood," Ashton said slowly.   

"Bullshit," Rosie called out lazily.  "This whole thing bullshit.  Just because you don't like how he dealt with your imperious orders, doesn't mean he misunderstood them.  You misunderstood how he intended to handle the problem."   

"A problem that never would have existed if anyone listened to me," Harry finally jumped into the conversation.   

Irial shared a wide-eyed, raised glance of raised eyebrows and mutual surprise when both men turned to Harry, expressions hard and murderous.  It didn't matter, though.  Harry had crossed over from being gentle, level-headed Harry into hardened business, PR bitch that scared the living shit out of Irial when faced with it.  He wasn't about to back down from this confrontation; all Rosie and Irial had to do was sit back and watch, the same way they had all this time when Harry had 'Bcc'ed them into all his work emails.   

"Months ago, I warned you that their relationship and general presence on Twitter was the only thing keeping this whole thing from spiraling out of control, because people were so busy following them on Twitter, they didn't go looking for anything else, they didn't examine anything else.  A few people did, but that was the fringes.  By hiding their interaction on Twitter, you made it look like there was something to hide...so people started looking!  Do you have any idea how much crap people dug up so that they could get their daily dose of 'Crisial cuteness'?  You hired me for crisis management, but the problem isn't that Cris can't stop being all over his best mate, the problem is that management companies think that the best way to deal with that is to hide it...it isn't."   

"Control the narrative," Rosie said to herself.   

"Exactly," Harry said tightly.  "You get in front of a story and spin it.  You don't try and hide it.  You don't lie to the media.  And you don't tell one of the most popular Tweeters in the world to censor himself.  You look guilty!  You look like you're hiding something.  You make people curious, make people question.  Make people who never thought any of this was real suddenly go, 'maybe it isn't real, but isn't a little suspicious that a music management company told a band member's best friend not Tweet certain things?'  How the fuck do I spin that?  Since you two think you can do this job better than me, tell me."   

Both men shifted uncomfortably, but Ashton was bristling, angry and annoyed, "Can you?"   

"Depends," Harry remarked, "are we done with the power plays?  If you're going to sabotage every move I make, then I want no part in this."   

Daniel and Ashton shared a glance before Ashton sighed and nodded at Harry.   

"Excellent," Harry said, turning to Rosie and Irial, ignoring the two men who looked like they'd swallowed a lemon whole.  Harry, on the other hand, looked positively chipper.  "Irial," he smiled innocently at his best friend, "your Twitter protest is over.  They'll leave your Twitter alone on the condition that you don't post anything that overtly confirms your relationship with Cris."   

"Is he going to be blamed if he posts something up that can be connected back to Cris and is through an outside source?"   

"That depends entirely on the situation.  If recklessness can be attributed to the reason the connection was made then, yes."   

Irial pursed his lips and looked to Rosie who only seemed thoughtful, eyes narrowed, "What it isn't?  Pure happenstance but widely believed?"   

"We won't find him responsible for shippers.  If we prosecuted based on the research of Crisial shippers, everyone would be guilty.  They're pitbulls," Harry grinned cheekily.   

"Just Twitter?"  Irial clarified.  Harry raised an eyebrow at him while Daniel and Ashton looked at him sharply.  Rosie dug her nails into his leg, and Irial winced.   

"Just so we're clear," Rosie added with a winning smile.   

Harry looked over at Ashton and Daniel.  Ashton studied Irial silently for a moment, but Irial kept his face carefully blank, pulling out his phone and playing with it, hopefully keeping an expression off his face.  Daniel finally said, "Extend it to Instagram as well...and his radio show."   

"So, just to be clear," Rosie restated slowly, "basically he can't out his relationship.  This is him making a verbal agreement to do what he was doing two months ago?"   

Irial sighed and shook his head, "What a fucking waste of seventy-three days."  
  



	39. "Sometimes" Chipmunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even the most transparent people have secrets. Who knew pseudo family dinners could be so outrageous?

**Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
Hello Twitter...did you miss me?.......XD  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@DorianII my elf is back online!!!!!!!! #ImExcited #WelcomeHome #TwitterMissedYou  
  
 **He's Back!!!!! (@darlingdori)**  
73 days bitches but @DorianII is back #TwitterMissedYou #DorianLives #WelcomeHome  
  
 **Holden on to my excitement (@holdtheirish)**  
My brother @DorianII #WelcomeHome #TwitterMissedYou @Cris_Emerson is making you trend  
  
 **Crisial Updates (@CrisialUpdates)**  
"@Cris_Emerson:@DorianII my elf is back online" yep...the yang to our yin is back and posting :D #TwitterMissedYou #WelcomeHome #CrisialIsReal  
  
 **Jayyyyyyy (@hey_gay_jay)**  
OMFG I'm fucking crying @DorianII is back on Twitter #TwitterMissedYou #DorianLives  
  
 **Irish Rose (@rosieposie)**  
@DorianII hey boo #WeclomeHome :) #TwitterMissedYou #DorianLives  
  
 **Missy <3Kellin (@LittleMissy867)**  
@DorianII now I won't be bored in maths anymore #TwitterMissedYou #DorianLives #DontLeaveUsAgain D:  
  
 **Holy Fuck Dorian! (@breaker_breaker)**  
@DorianII we never realize what he have until its gone #TwitterMissedYou #DorianLives #FuckDissident for making you go  
  
 **Fuck yeah, Crisial (@dj_dollface)**  
Hopping back on the #Crisial virtual cuteness train...Tumblr was a nice vacay #TwitterMissedYou #CrisialShippersUnite  
  
 **RT by @Ariella_Em106**  
 **I'm crying (@LaceyG1891)**  
Not even a #crisial shipper but yay we're back to @DorianII @Cris_Emerson bromance cuteness #ICantEven #TwitterMissedYou #WelcomeHome #Crisial  
  
 **Soren Reid (@sorensoars)**  
Dinner with @breakingfourth @rosieposie @Ariella_Em106 @holdtheirish @Cherrie_TA @DorianII...speaking of Diran #DorianLives #TwitterMissedYou #WelcomeHome  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
@Cris_Emerson haha yeah now I can stop spamming you mobile ;) #YouKnowYouLikedIt #sorrynotsorry  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
Thanks to everyone for helping to bring me back especially @darlingdori #ILY #ManyThanks #DorianLives #WelcomeHome #TwitterMissedYou #Homecoming

* * *

"Incoming, incoming, its done!  Iri, get _off_!" Cris ordered hastily as he carried the steaming tray over to the only clear section of the counter, which was, coincidentally, where his boyfriend was sitting contentedly, swinging his legs and sipping his whiskey sour while laughing at Soren.   

Irial looked up, exclaimed excitedly and hopped down so that Crispin could slide his fresh cheese cake onto the counter, "Oh my God, I knew there was a reason I loved you."   

Cris gave him an exasperated look and said, "You're just using me for my cooking."   

"Um... _yeah_ ," Irial nodded, grinning and pressing a kiss to Crispin's jaw.   

"Fuck, is that fresh cheesecake?  Marry me, Crissy," Dominic said, salivating as he stared longingly at the cheesecake.   

Cheryl rolled her eyes, and Rosie punched him lightly in the side, taking another slice of salami pizza and munching on it.  Irial wrinkled his nose at Dominic, "Watch it you!  Get your own kitchen talented trophy husband.  This one's mine."   

Rosie gave Irial a calculating look before raising her eyebrows at Harry who just bit down on a smile.  Cris frowned, looking between them, _what the hell_ was _that_ about?  Irial met Cris's curious gaze, humming thoughtfully and smiling innocently, kissing his cheek, "Alright, last call for drinks before we start the movie because fuck if I'm playing bartender during Juno.  How about no?"   

"Sex on the Beach," Ariella called out, looking around for a moment and frowning, "where the fuck are the Sun Chips?"   

"Like I would bring sun chips into our house!"  Irial gasped.   

Ariella gave him a bland look, and Penney wandered into the room from the living room and shook her head at Irial, "I moved the snacks to the living room."   

"Guacamole!" Micah called out thankfully, retreating to the living room and calling back, "And I want a margarita!"   

"Daiquiri!" Cheryl and Penney called at the same time, pointing to each other before grinning and yelling, "Jinx!"   

"Two years old, all of you, I swear," Irial rolled his eyes.  He turned to Harry and smiled, "Are you getting this laundry list, mate?  I feel like I'm back at Benton's."   

"Except your not getting tipped," Harry pointed out.  Irial made a mew of protest, and Cris laughed and kissed his cheek.   

He smiled down at him sheepishly, "Irish coffee?"   

"I hate your soul," Irial said, even as he pressed a kiss to the corner of Cris's lips before shoving him in the direction of the living room mot people had already disappeared to.  He smacked Cris's ass on the way out, just giving him an impish smile when he glanced back at his boyfriend.   

Rolling her eyes at the pair of them, Rosie hand him the pizza boxes roughly, calling out she'd kill whoever didn't make her a Cosmo, and Holden wandered in from the hallway with bed head and a bare-chest asking for Long Island Iced Tea before scooping up the garlic knots and calamari, carrying them into the living room and hip-checking his sister on the way passed.   

Everyone had settled on the floor or the couch sharing blankets and floor pillows...or just outright using each other for all of those things.  Ariella and Holden—who insisted they weren't dating—were curled up together in the corner of the sofa, chatting with pizza slices in their hand and a duvet thrown over them.  They all cheered as Rosie and Cris dropped the rest of the food on the already piled and cluttered coffee table; Benji frowned and looked up at Cris with wide-eyes, "Cheesecake?"   

"Not for you plebs!"  Irial yelled as he and Harry wandered into the room, hands full of drinks that they doled out with the speed and efficiency of...well..former bartenders before Irial collapsed on the couch, huffing.  Careful of the drink in his hand, Cris curled up as much as he could in Irial's lap, leaning his back against the arm of sofa and resting his head in the curve of Irial's neck.   

"Um...hate to be nit-picky, but is someone gonna start the movie?" Holden asked.   

The room went silent, everyone looking around for the sap who'd have to get up and get the remotes; Cris ignored everyone, latching his mouth onto Irial's neck, sucking his skin into his mouth and pressing a series of bites and kisses to the column of his throat...because yeah, it was his fucking house.  Cris heard Ariella groan in annoyance.   

"Lazy fuckers, the lot of you," she huffed.   

A pillow hit Cris in the back of his head, and he jolted, Irial reaching out to steady his Irish coffee and keep it from sloshing out all over the sofa.  He turned and glared at Rosie who shook her head and pointed to Soren; Cris balked at his best friend who shrugged, "Mate, I know the two of you.  Necking tends to escalate quickly."   

Cris shifted in Irial's lap, bum pressing against Irial's half-hard cock as Irial hissed in alarm, pressing his head into Cris's bare shoulder and biting the skin on his arm.  Cris stiffened, then blushed.  Yeah, Soren might have a point...a bit...whatever.   

"Fucking hell, hit play!" Dominic whined to Ariella who raised her eyebrow at him.   

Holden snatched the remotely from her hand and hit play, "Preschoolers, I swear."   

"Shut the fuck up, prat," Ariella remarked.   

"Swine."   

"Slag."   

"Bitch."   

"Douchebag."   

"Whoa," Irial coughed.   

Harry raised an eyebrow, "Well that escalated quickly."   

"Rosie," Holden whined, "you're not going to defend your brother's honor?"   

Rosie gave him a long look and rolled her eyes, "No.  You want to pick fights with your roommate, that's cool, but don't think _I'm_ going to get involved.  Ariella's merciless, and I took on Dissident today so fuck your crazy."   

Irial blinked in shock and shared a long look with Cris who laughed, tucking his face into Irial's neck to smother his laughter.  He ran a hand through Cris's hair, coughing to hide his giggles, but Holden didn't buy it.  The boy picked up a handful of popcorn and tossed it that pair of them yelling, "Boo!"   

Laughing, Irial failed at catching some of the kernels in his mouth and pouted while everyone else laughed, and Cris rolled his eyes and picked up a piece, popping it in Irial's mouth.  He grinned at Cris and chewed; Cris pointed at Holden who froze, "You realize _you're_ cleaning this mess up tomorrow."   

Holden cursed and Micah clapped, "Good, strong parenting.  I like it."   

Cheryl smacked her boyfriend's chest, "You _won't_ when it's our children not a flatmate."   

Micah gaped, and Irial sat up shushing everyone, "Oh my God silence!  Juno McGuff is talking!"   

Cheryl rolled her eyes but tucked herself into a still shell-shocked Micah's side.  Cris smiled, biting Irial's ear lobe while Irial pulled out his cell phone, snapping a picture of the two of them cuddled up on the couch.  Cris beamed, taking the phone out of his hand and making the image his screensaver while Irial just rolled his eyes, allowing it and tucking his chin over Cris's shoulder.  He switched to Twitter as soon as Cris was done setting his ringtone to 'Kiss Me' by Ed Sheeran, grinning and pressing a long open mouth kiss to Cris's neck, leaving a massive mark before returning his attention to Twitter.

**Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
It's time for Juno!!!!!!! #confessiontime I think Michael Cera is attractive in cute nerd way...and I'd go straight for Juno McGuff  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
@Nic_Kinsey proposed to my bf right in front of me then tried to steal my cheesecake D: #NotCoolBro  
  
Stifling laughter, Cris logged into his own Twitter, tossing Irial cheeky smile and as he typed out:

**Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@DorianII said my baby has no manners and imprisoned him on the terrace #Marius #DoggyJail   

Irial bit his shoulder sharply before pressing a kiss to the stinging bite, lips curving against his skin as he muttered, "Such a princess.  Your fans are going to arrest me for animal abuse."   

Cheryl groaned, " _This_ movie.  Why?  She's so fucking weird."   

Cris and Irial both swung their heads around to glare at the woman.  Rosie had cringed into Harry looking scandalized.  Ariella and Holden were clutching each other like she was an axe murderer about to come kill them.  Micah shook his head at his girlfriend, exasperated; Soren was the only one who wasn't looking at her like she had three heads.  Holden threw popcorn at her, "Boo!"   

"You're not human, are you?" Cris asked slowly, carefully.   

"Oh Christ, are you _fucking_ kidding me?" Cheryl groaned.   

"Juno is life!  You have no soul!" Irial shouted.   

"Juno is a _terrible_ movie...and creepy.  Mark Loring was _crushing_ on her.  I mean, Juno really?"   

"She is my wife!"  Irial cried dramatically, and Benji and Cris shared an amused look while Harry just rolled his eyes.  Rosie, on the other hand, looked satisfied with this exchange like she was glad _someone_ was giving her hell for her poor taste in movies.   

"You're _gay_!"   

"I will rip you face off with my teeth!  Juno is a queen!  Juno is incredible!  Juno is my soul and I fucking hate you and leave my flat you cold-hearted, soulless wench!"   

Rosie sighed, a calculating look in her eye, cutting in before Cheryl could respond with, "I'd love to see Irial shred Cheryl in this verbal defense of Juno's cinematic honor, but I'd really rather Dominic tell us all about his girlfriend."   

The room went so silent you could hear a pin drop, because _Dominic had a girlfriend?  Dominic had a girlfriend and hadn't_ told _anyone?_   Not possible, like what even was his life?   

"Wait...what?"  Micah demanded.   

"You whore!"  Cheryl exclaimed, glaring at him.   

"Who the hell are you shagging?" Irial demanded.   

"You have a girlfriend and didn't tell me?"  Cris asked, wide-eyed and sad-faced, "I thought we were _friends_."   

"Clearly," Dominic rolled his eyes, lighthearted but nonetheless pointed, "friendship has nothing to do with it.  I mean, this is from a man who didn't tell us about his boyfriend for months."   

"Or that having a boyfriend was even a possibility," Micah added.   

"That truth though," Holden said while Irial pursed his lips and nodded.  Cris gave his boyfriend a betrayed look, and Irial grinned at him, pressing their lips together in a long kiss...but not defending him.  _Well, then_.   

Benji sighed, "Tell me that it's not Kimberly Lakshmi again.  God, I don't think we could take the drama."   

Dominic laughed humorlessly, "Fat chance.  Kimberly Lakshmi is a lesbian."   

And more silence.   

Who knew transparent Dominic held so many fucking secrets?  What the hell?   

"Wait...what?"  Micah finally demanded again.   

Ariella was choking on her drink.  Holden was gaping at Dominic.  Rosie and Harry shared a look while Penney was the voice of reason who pointed out, "I don't think you should spread that?"   

"No fucking...seriously?"  Cris inquired in disbelief because he had so not picked up that vibe from her _at all_.  He looked over at Irial who looked just about as lost, meeting Cris's eyes and shrugging because...yeah...what the _actual_ fuck?  Dominic Kinsey, his bandmate and best friend, had a secret girlfriend Rosie knew about—which how the fuck did _Rosie_ know when none of the band did—that wasn't his on-again, off-again ex girlfriend Kimberly Lakshmi as she was apparently lesbian...um...   

"Wait...how did _Rosie_ know?"  Cris demanded.   

"No," Cheryl cut in, "what _kind_ of lesbian.  Like I like pussy every now and then.  I like pussy when I like pussy.  Or like pussy is my main squeeze, keep your fucking cock away from me."   

Dominic just tossed her a look that asked 'are you fucking serious with me right now?'  Irial, though, wrapped his arms around Cris's waist and said, "Those are _actually_ pretty important distinctions."   

"Harry told me," Rosie informed Cris cheerfully.   

Even Benji looked floored, sharing a look with Cris and inquiring, "How the fuck did _Harry_ know?"   

Harry rolled his eyes, "I get paid a lot of money to keep your sordid affairs out of the press...or make them look less like sordid affairs.  I know everything."   

Micah pursed his lips, and Cris balked...creepy.   

Irial, it seemed, couldn't help himself.

**Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
Being hit with a lot of truth bombs...@HaroldBSterling is a ninja that knows everything O.O   

"The reason we broke up the first time is because she fucked her publicist's intern while I was sleeping in the next room...in her bed," Dominic remarked.   

More awkward silences because tonight was really just awkward silence night for shit.   

"She had the slut use a dildo when she literally could have just come into the room and used my dick to get her off," Dominic said, holding up his glass in a sardonic cheers before downing the rest of his gin and tonic...well fuck then.   

Ariella choked on her drink.   

Rosie gaped at him.  Penney looked like she wanted to shrink into the couch cushions and hide.  Cheryl was _actually_ speechless.  Harry, unsurprised, Benji deciding whether or not he should be infuriated on Dominic's behalf, Irial was just incredulous, and Micah stuttered, "Fucking...what?"   

"I'm thinking she's _really_ a lesbian," Cris muttered.   

"This is what my life has become since I met you," Irial told Cris, squeezing him tighter despite how brusque his delivery was.  "I hope you know how much I fucking love you to deal with this level of crazy on a daily basis."   

Rosie tossed him an incredulous look, "You work in broadcast radio.  Just last week those two actresses got into a fight in studio because you asked about a guy they're apparently both fucking."   

"Private life versus professional, very different."   

Cris pressed his lips to the corner of Irial's lips until he turned to Cris, lips parting under Cris's.  The groaned in annoyance when the deep kiss had Cris moaning into Irial's mouth as his hand slid up over Cris's bare chest to anchor into Cris's hair.  He smiled sheepishly and pulled back, hiding his face in Irial's neck and murmuring, "I love you too, elf."   

He could tell Irial was grinning as he pulled Cris closer, tucking him more securely into Irial's soft body and asking, "Wow, let's skip anymore Dominic confessions and go with: who is this bird?"   

_Good question._    

Cris peeked out to look at Dominic who blushed violently and hid his face in his hands.  Harry rolled his eyes and confessed for him, "He's dating Beverly Dixon."   

And there came that moment where the half of the room that had worked actual blue collar jobs for minimum wage all gaped at Dominic while Cris, Penney, Benji, and Micah were all at a loss.  Irial gasped, "Holy fuck, I love her!"   

"Who is that?" Cris asked.   

"You'd only know her if you worked in the restaurant business around London or New York," Rosie said unhelpfully. Benji glared at her.   

"She trained all of Benton's bartenders," Harry added, just as willfully uninformative as Rosie.  The boys and Penney turned to Irial.   

"She's a professional bartender, one of the best in the word," Irial admitted.   

"They have professional bartenders?"  Ariella frowned.   

Harry sighed and looked heavenward while Rosie shook her head.  Irial gave Cris a look that clearly said ‘your sister is a moron' before continuing, " _Yeah_.  She's not just a bartender though.  She's a mixologist and a fantastic one at that.  She created the entire drink menu at Benton's...she'll probably end up working at Diageo in the next five years."   

"Her ten year plan is on point," Rosie nodded.   

Benji raised an eyebrow, "How old is she?"   

"Older than Dominic," Irial and Harry deadpanned.  Cris snickered; he highly doubted any of them would spill Beverly's age like that, especially given how much they seemed to like her.  Cris relaxed; if Harry, Irial, _and_ Rosie liked her, then she couldn't be as bad as Kimberly Lakshmi who'd basically used Dominic as a beard without telling him... _women_.   

"Now, I got Twitter back, found out Kimberly Lakshmi's a lesbo, learned Dominic's dating my former mentor, _and_ discovered Cherrie has no soul, no heart, and no love within her and hates Juno.  Anymore truth-bombs we want to drop, right now?"   

"Harry and I aren't dating," Rosie said.  Cris raised his eyebrows, _really_?   

"I broke up with my girlfriend in Phoenix because I wanted to explore my flip-flopping sexuality," Holden confessed.  Cris and Irial glanced at each other; he'd watched one of their sex tapes (which they really had to put away now that other people lived in the house) neither of them was surprised.  Rosie just cocked her head at her brother, lips pursed while Harry nodded.  Ariella didn't looked the least bit surprised.   

"We're not going on tour this year," Cris promised Irial who grinned at him happily.  Cris kissed him.   

"Penney and I are breaking up," Benji shocked the hell out of everyone, startling Cris and Irial out of their kiss to gape at the pair of them.   

Penney shrugged, legs in Benji's lap, "We just don't feel it anymore.  We're better as friends."   

_How very mature of them._

"I'm pregnant," Cheryl added.  _That_ got a violent reaction from the room, leaving Micah speechless and Irial clutching Cris, shaking his head.  She smirked, "Only joking."  _Thank God_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I officially finished writing this book and editing. Now all I've got to do is post it in between work and this Game of Thrones marathon I'm starting like right now (I've never seen the show.) Daenrys brother is such a fucking creep. Stab him in the eye with a fork.


	40. "Wild Ones" Flo Rida

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irial's birthday party. 'Nuff said.

**Tumblr Post: ThePrincessAndHisElf**  
 **The video from Edmonton**  
Remember that video with terrible audio of Irial having absolutely no gag reflex during a drinking contest with those girls outside Breaking Fourth's Edmonton concert?  The one where he literally downed the whole root beet in seconds and used only his mouth to hold it?  No one could hear what the one girl said to him to make him choke and laugh? I got my friend (she's partially-deaf and reads lips) to read their lips and got a transcript. She's 90% sure its true.  
  
 **Reblogged by catchingdreams092815**  
 **Tumblr Post: ThePrincessAndHisElf**  
 **Drinking Contest Video Transcript**  
Girl: I'm not introducing you to my boyfriend, clearly you're better at sucking cock and swallowing come than I am.  
Dorian: I can deep throat with the best pornstars.  
Girl's friend: I'm sure Cris appreciates that.  
Dorian: (chokes then laughs) My life gets more and more interesting everyday.  
  
To: rosieireland@gmail.com; haroldpotter699@gmail.com.uk; mustlovedogs@gmail.com.uk; gingeyleprechaun556@gmail.com; dartmoorlittlemermaid@gmail.com.uk; djkinsey@gmail.com.uk; cherrietayberry@gmail.com.uk; chriscrossedmicah@gmail.com.uk; owlguardiansoren@gmail.com.uk  
From: crossesoflead@gmail.com.uk  
Subject: Irial's Birthday  
Thank you guys so much for helping me get everything together for tonight (even though I know I was a pain in the ass to work with).  It'll be fun, and I know Irial will appreciate it. Dominic don't try to talk you girlfriend out of going so we can't meet her. It's Irial's BIRTHDAY. She was his mentor. Do not piss me off today. I even invited fucking Charles Beck for him so don't even try to pull any bullshit with me. I'll see you all tonight.  
Thanks again,  
Cris

**Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
I turn ancient today, but like fuck if I don't have the best boyfriend ever #GoodMorning ;D  
  
 **RT by @DorianII**  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
Happy birthday to me best friend, flatmate, and most amazing person I know @DorianII so glad to have you in my life  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
:'D I have the greatest friends in the world #grateful #ily

* * *

"Happy birthday, Iri!"   

"Holy fucking shit!  Crispin!"   

Crispin laughed and threw his arm around Irial's shoulders, pressing his forehead against Irial's temple.  He swatted him away, blushing furiously while all their friends laughed at Irial's obvious discomfort with the situation.  He turned and hid his face in Crispin's neck and murmured to his boyfriend, "I hate you.  You're an awful human being."   

"Aww, come Iri, we don't bite," Cheryl called out from where she stood beside Micah, grinning at him.   

Irial fought a smile and shook his head, "I just don't know if I believe that."   

"Clarification, then, it's not _our_ job to bite you," Charlie Beck commented, voice and eyes full of mirth.   

Stiffening beside Irial, Crispin muttered quietly enough for only Irial to hear, "Damn right, it's fucking not."   

He shook his head, "What?  So I'm _not_ getting birthday lovebites from everyone?"   

"I don't know if you have enough skin for that, mate," Soren added.   

"'Specially since you're so tiny, Iri," Emma Cross giggled.   

Irial flipped her off, "God I hate all of you, honestly.  Crispin, we're breaking up right now.  You clearly don't love me.  You've invited all my enemies here to kill me."   

"Yeah, yeah Irial, like we're all risk incarceration for your dramatic little arse," Cheryl commented.  "Now, can we eat?"   

"Yes!"  Irial exclaimed, "Can we ever?"   

"One second you hate me and the next you want me to feed you?  Make up your mind, babe," Crispin tsked, grinning when Irial elbowed him in the side, blushing and shaking his head while everyone laughed.  "Just wait until you see your birthday cake."   

"Am I going to be even more embarrassed in front of every single person I know?"  Irial stage-whispered conspiratorially.   

Rosie made her way over and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly and shaking her head, "I just don't know if that's possible."   

"You made quite an entrance!"  Shahnaz Attar, one of the singers of Azadi, called out, laughing.  Irial flipped him off.  He wouldn't say he'd gotten _close_ with Azadi when he'd been heading down a self-destructive life path, but they'd all certainly had their good times together and commiserated about their existence in various nightclubs and pubs all across the city.   

"I'm as graceful as a fucking ballerina, Shah!  You shut your mouth!"   

Penney giggled and snapped a picture of him, shaking her head, sitting on the bar and smiling when the bartender gave her the stink-eye, " _That's_ a good one.  Irial's yelling face say hello to Instagram."   

"I hate you all, seriously," Irial mumbled.   

"Who has a Keek video of his...ballerina graceful entrance?"  Dominic put his hand up with a wide smile on his face because...of course he does.   

Crispin chuckled at Irial's side, hands still holding tightly to Irial's waist, "Better put it up before he finds your mobile and just deletes everything to make sure the video's gone."   

"Why do I love you, again?" Irial glared at his boyfriend.   

Crispin smiled impishly and pressed a kiss to Irial's temple while Beverly just smirked, crossing her arms over her ample chest and shook her blown out hair, "He already did, that cow.  I did try to stop him."   

Irial was slightly mollified by that, but quickly when from relatively subdued to thrilled, squealing as he hurled himself away from Crispin and into his former boss/mentor/trainer.  Laughing, Beverly caught him easily and hugged him tightly.   

Beverly Dixon looked just as gorgeous as she ever had as far as Irial had known her.  He knew that she'd had a rough childhood living in one of the poorest areas in London, Hackney South/Shoreditch, but her rough childhood had only seemed to make her stronger...and he wasn't even talking about the fact that before bartending she'd been an frighteningly excellent boxer.  Beverly was gorgeous with medium brown skin, almond colored eyes, and a mass of mahogany curls she'd blown out for his surprise party.  She'd dressed in her usual style of dark skinny jeans, a fitted top, and a pair of killer Christian Loubatin heels, that were the only thing the woman ever splurged on that wasn't relevant to behind the bar.   

"Hey Bev," Irial greeted her shyly.   

"Hey Iri," Beverly chuckled.  "You look...like exactly the same hot mess I met...what has it been?  Almost five years, I think."   

"I wasn't properly warned!  Crispin was all 'we're going to go out to your favorite pub for your birthday', and I'm like 'okay'.  I thought we were grabbing a drink not going to a party."   

Crispin scoffed, "As if you'd have dressed up even if I'd told you."   

"Well..." Irial drawled sheepishly.  Crispin might have a point.   

"And you're dating this lunatic.  Would you mind if I killed him?"   

Beverly pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow, "I think I might, actually.  Necrophilia is one particular kink road that I'd rather not go down, if you please."   

"What about a threesome, then?  So I can kill him and you can have your shag.  I mean, it'll be an interesting experience for birthday sex."   

"I must have missed the part where I agreed to that," Crispin intoned.   

"Don't proposition my girlfriend, mate," Dominic warned Irial teasingly, and Irial rolled his eyes while Crispin just shook his head.   

Beverly shared a quick glance with Crispin, both of them amused and trying to hide it it, "Threesomes...not my cuppa.  I mean, let's be honest here, you'd be far too focused on Crispin, and I quite like to be the center of attention."   

"Well, I don't, can I join?"  A voice said from behind him.   

Irial's eyes widened, and he spun around, beaming, "Oh my God, it's Charlie Beck!"   

Charlie smiled, revealing two rows of perfectly straight and sparkling white teeth.  Crispin tensed, hooking a finger through Irial's belt loop.  It was a possessive but passive gesture that didn't go unnoticed by Beverly and Dominic—who excused themselves, not wanting to get involved—Irial (who let it go because he understood why Crispin it necessary...Irial had snogged him publicly while drunk and a bit of a mess during their epic failure of a breakup), or Charlie who simply raised an eyebrow but didn't make a comment about it.   

"Oh my God, it's Irial Dorian!" Charlie replied, taking a sip of his drink and looking shiftily between Crispin and Irial who shifted closer to Crispin, pressing their sides together and humming thoughtfully.  His smile widened, "Oh...I see."   

Irial rolled his eyes, "Yeah, yeah.  Charlie, this is Crispin Emerson.  Princess, this is Charlie Beck."   

"Nice to meet you," Charlie told Crispin, not even bothering to try for a handshake, knowing Crispin was coiled way too tightly for that.  He took a sip of his drink and looked between the two of them, "You're cute, the two of you.  Honestly, I can't believe people actually believe you're platonic.  You know, you two shift in synchronization?"   

"What kind of shit are you telling people now, Chaz?"  Another person came up behind Charlie.   

Irial shared a look with Crispin when Charlie's whole demeanor shifted, softening and relaxing, his calculated smile becoming genuine and warm when he looked over his shoulder to find Patrick Gallagher coming up behind him, his arm thrown around the shoulders of his girlfriend.  Patrick, though, seemed to forget all about her as he came up to Charlie resting an arm on Charlie's shoulder and throwing his weight against him, arm falling from his girlfriend's shoulders.  Crispin gaped at them for a moment, raising his eyes at Irial who shook his head.  _No, they weren't together...but considering the passionate way Patrick had glared at Irial when he and Charlie had drunkenly snogged Patrick certainly wanted them to be, never mind his girlfriend._   

The thing about Patrick and his girlfriend, another actress from the show the two starred on together, Evelyn Merritt, was that they were beautiful together without a doubt.  Both were pale and dark, Evelyn slim and petite, willowy with thick dark hair, killer grey-green eyes, and pouty lips that Irial would totally be into if he swung that way.  Whereas her boyfriend was tall, lean but with a fine layer of muscle, a gorgeous head to thick inky locks, and this mysterious Irish air about him...plus he was a killer dresser.  But Evelyn just sort of shrank when Patrick was around Charlie...there was just no way she could ever measure up.   

Crisial shippers said that he and Crispin had this thing with yin and yang (which they did, but that was neither here nor there), but Charlie and Patrick _embodied_ it.  Patrick and Evelyn might _look_ like that beautiful, ice-queen It Couple, but Charlie and Patrick fit, complement each other perfectly not only in looks but in personality.  Charlie was barely an inch shorter that Patrick, tanned from spending most of the last two months filming a movie in some tropical paradise, with grown out, dirty blonde curls, cerulean blue eyes, and a perpetual smile on his face, which actually was a bit deceiving, calculating as Charlie was.   

"That they fit is all, Patty," Charlie commented with a grin.   

Patrick cocked his head and narrowed his eyes on them thoughtfully, "They do at that.  I'm Patrick Gallagher."   

Crispin took his hand and shook it, "Cris Emerson."   

"I know who you are," Patrick laughed.  "Think, everyone does.  And I quite know who you are."   

Irial widened his eyes innocently, "Me?  Now, now, Patrick I quite feel like we've already had this discussion.  Is it necessary that we have it again?"   

Raising an eyebrow, Patrick stared down at him while Charlie just looked at his best friend impassively.  Crispin looked between the two of them but only wrapped an arm around Irial's waist when he cringed into Crispin's side, not saying anything while Patrick continued, "I don't know, is it?  You quite done getting Chaz into trouble because _you're_ on a downward spiral?"   

Bristling, Irial opened his mouth to retort but Crispin squeezed his side and said evenly, "Yeah, he's done."   

Patrick tore his eyes away from Irial (who could finally breathe) to look at Crispin who stared back unflinchingly.  Charlie's gaze cut back and forth between the two, fighting a smile.  After a moment, Patrick smiled at Crispin, "I like you.  Your boyfriend I'm still on the fence about, but _you_ , boybander, you I like."   

Crispin laughed, "My elf just pisses off everyone he meets.  Don't take it personally.""   

"Hey!" Irial said, affronted, "You'd at least better buy me a drink before you start insulting me."   

"That's a good idea," Evelyn remarked, looking over at Patrick with narrowed eyes, "Pat?"   

Blinking and turning to look at his girlfriend owlishly, he recovered quickly, nodding, "Yeah, alright, Evie."  Charlie scowled.  Crispin and Irial slanted mirrored look at each other that seemed to echo the sentiment that those two should really just bone and get it over with.  Patrick flicked one of Charlie's curls before turning and throwing an arm over his girlfriend's shoulders, looking back at Irial and Crispin, "Come on, then, slag, I'll even buy you a shot for your birthday."   

Irial grinned at Crispin.   

Actually, Patrick bought him _five_ shots before his girlfriend got tired of hanging with the boys and dragged him away to mingle.  Charlie pouted full-on for another five minutes, scowling darkening when Crispin and draped himself over Irial's back, arms around his middle and hands running up and down his thighs, inching closer and closer to his crotch with every turn.  Luckily, Penney had rescued Charlie, before Crispin and Irial said 'fuck the windows and general decorum' and exchanged hand jobs right at the bar, buying the three of them even more shots, which had turned into a pint of Guinness when Rosie had demanded alcohol so she didn't "take to the streets and track down Benji and Harry myself with that damned cake."   

"Hey, look who we found!"  Benji exclaimed when he enter the bar, Harry with Irial's cake trailing behind along with two other figures.   

The first was a woman, tall and lithe and so skinny she practically disappeared when she turned sideways; she appeared pale, but almost unnaturally like being without sun had sucked away the first layer of her natural tan.  Tiny freckles splashed over the bridge of her nose.  She was Asian...actually, Irial would put his money on Pacific Islander with large but slightly pointed light brown eyes and straight brown hair that fell in feathery wisps just passed her shoulders.   

"Where do you want this?"  Harry questioned, and Rosie yanked the cake from his hands, glaring at him while he gave he an innocuous smile.  Harry followed her across the room to the main table.   

"Hey!" Crispin said in a warm greeting.   

Already half-drunk, Irial choked on his drink and gaped in shock as Crispin pushed up from the bar and crossed the room to embrace the man who'd trailed in behind Harry and then his dainty female companion.   

Holy crap.   

Crispin had invited Arthur Bailey to his birthday.   

Yep, he legitimately had the best boyfriend on the face of the planet.   

Arthur Bailey was beautiful, which was not why Irial was so starstruck by the man...guy...boy...whatever, but it needed to be noted in any case.  He was slender but muscular, half-Sioux and half-English who'd divided his time growing up between the American plains and Sheffield.  His hair was about as long as Crispin's if not a little longer and held at bay by a elastic band at the base of his neck.  Actually, if Dimitri Belikov and Rose Hathaway from _Vampire Academy_ (the book not the movie where Turkish-Scottish Rose somehow became the whitest white girl in the history of ever and Lissa became British) had a baby with some Native American blood, he would totally look like this, all rugged and exotic and gorgeous.  But, whatever, the reason Irial was so starstruck was because the nineteen year old sort-of Englishman was going to be the best football player in the world, hands down.   

America and England were already passive-aggressively fighting over who he'd play for in the next summer Olympics.  He'd been drafted straight out of school at sixteen, skipping sixth form to sign with Arsenal...and he was fabulous, still developing as a player, obviously, but with each year he only seemed to get better and better.  The press adored him.  Arsenal fans practically worshipped him.  And regardless of what football team people cheered for, everyone loved Arthur Bailey because he was quiet, soft-spoken, but still sweet and enchanting, funny and charming when the press could actually get someone out of him besides straight answers...plus he was a machine on the field.   

"Iri!"  Crispin called, a smug smile on his face.  Irial walked over in a daze, ignoring Ariella and Holden, giggling behind him but not saying anything as Beverly taught them the proper way to make a dry martini, the bartender seeming more than happy to allow her to commandeer the bar.  Crispin grabbed Irial's hand when he got close enough, pulling him over to Crispin's side and snickering at how absolutely starstruck he was...it wasn't funny.  He grinned down at Irial, "Iri, babe, this is—"   

Irial smacked his boyfriend's stomach, "Oh my God, I know who he is.  It's Arthur Bailey!"   

The footie player looked between him and Crispin, grinned and said, "You can just call me Bailey.  So, _you're_ the 'love of his life' that I just had to meet, huh?"   

Blinking, Irial shot a look over at Crispin who blushed, "I suppose so.  My princess just has a way with words, hasn't he?"   

"And no filter," the woman beside Bailey laughed.   

"I'm so rude.  Hello, lovely, I'm Irial Dorian."   

"You're charming, aren't you?"  She asked, beaming and shaking Irial's hand firmly, "I'm Kanani Kapuana."   

"Yo, bitches!  Cake is melting!"  Rosie called out.   

Irial's ears perked up, "Melting?"  He shot Crispin a speculative look, "What kind of cake did you get me?"   

"Guess you'll have to find out before it melts," Crispin baited.   

Between the possibility of ice cream cake and meeting his footie champion...Irial chose food because...duh, it was edible.  Kanani and Bailey totally did _not_ laugh at him when he'd wrinkled his nose and dragged Crispin over to the cake, the two of them trailing along behind.  And other things that he'd pretend never happened tomorrow: crying when he found that Crispin had gotten him and ice cream cake decorated as the book cover to _A Picture of Dorian Grey_ , getting ice cream cake shoved all over his face by Crispin, which he responded to by nuzzling his neck to spread the love, having a group of tone deaf people sing him happy birthday in Russian accents (he doesn't even know how that _happened_ ), that all of that was captured on camera and posted on Keek and YouTube almost immediately, getting wasted because his friends kept buying him drinks to laugh at him being wasted, admitting drunkenly to Bailey that he thought he'd be a pretty decent shag and had had a fangirl crush on him since he first signed with Arsenal, asking Crispin if he could kiss Bailey once because "oh my God it's fucking _Arthur Bailey_ ", and Crispin agreeing and laughing when Bailey and Irial shared a wet, drunken peck surrounded by their friends....not to mention all the numerous weird shit Irial had posted on Twitter and Instagram including several weird photos of various objects and people's body parts in the room (Cris had actually gotten good shots of everybody that he'd posted).   

What couldn't be forgotten was the one thing they'd been careful about most of the night until they were both wasted and drunk off just being happy and carefree with their friends, forgetting about windows or wandering eyes or that they'd posted their location up on Twitter (basically...if people knew the area).   

Irial, drunk, spun around, searching for Crispin through the crowd of people singing '22' by Taylor Swift because they were all sad people like that; he'd found him sitting at the bar, grinning at the mass and nursing a whiskey, and Irial had stumbled through the crowd towards him, yelling, "Love of my life!"   

Crispin laughed and caught him, "Boyfriend!"  His knees were on either side of Irial's  hips, and Irial's arms were around his neck; Crispin smiled down at Irial, carding a hand through his hair and pressing his lips to Irial's who returned the kiss instantly, parting his lips under Crispin's and sighing, melting into his boyfriend, which was totally going to bite them in the ass.


	41. "I'm Just Saying" Karmin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cris proves to be worse at house-hunting than Irial (he has thing thing against Primrose Hill). And they get a nice dose of reality that actions have consequences, especially when there's more people involved than just them.

**Crisial Updates (@CrisialUpdates)**  
Audio enhanced on Phoenix Bar vid. Iri says love of my life, Cris answers boyfriend...and we all saw them kiss #CrisialIsReal #ImSoDone  
  
 **Hysterics Annoy Me (@Maisy53_B4)**  
Here go the Crisial shippers again. The video was WAY blurry. Even the enhanced audio was sketch. And they were both drunk anyway #CrisialIsFake #GetALife  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
The greatest soccer player in the world @ArthurBailey followed me today #FloatsAwayOnAClous  
  
 **Text message from Irial to Crispin**  
 **Irial** : I know you hate it but just keep an open mind  
 **Crispin** : I don't want to keep an open mind. I want to live in Chelsea  
 **Irial** : Actually I seem to recall you saying 'I just don't want to live with pretentious prep youth'  
 **Crispin** : Iri...no  
 **Irial** : We've exhausted all our options in Chelsea at this point. And most of the Central London area and you want a house...  
 **Crispin** : I want it on the record I don't like this  
 **Irial** : Noted, pending, dismissed as inconsequential <3  
 **Crispin** : -.-  
  
To: george.daniel@dissidentmanagement.org.uk; sterling.harry@dissidentmanagement.org.uk  
From: sawyer.ashton@dissidentmanagement.org.uk  
Subject: The Phoenix Bar video  
When this video came out a week ago, we all foresaw that this would be a problem. At this point, it's gone viral at least amongst the fandom, major news sources haven't picked it up. I have had enough.  People don't know what to think despite terrible audio someone is speaking over and the very poor quality of the video.  This needs to be fixed immediately. We all warned Dorian about the consequences, and Harry, as you pointed out, you're the crisis manager...manage the crisis or we have no choice but to sue.  
Ashton Sawyer  
Dissident Management  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
Don't kill him. Don't kill him. Don't kill him. Don't kill him. It's just a house!

* * *

"What do you think?"  Deborah Henley, Crispin's longtime realtor asked with a hopeful lilt to her voice.  Irial raised an eyebrow, it was nice she still had hope.   

Crispin looked like his was going to be sick, pulling a face and leaning against the sill of the massive bay window; Deborah sighed and ran a hand through her dyed blonde hair.  Irial patted the too nice woman on the shoulder, asking her to give them a minute.  She sighed and split quickly, looking like she'd rather be _anywhere_ else, and Irial totally understood the feeling.   

Deborah had come into this thinking that, once again, Irial would be the hardest one to please...she'd been wrong.   

From how surprised she was, Irial assumed that the first shopping trip around, Crispin had picked the place based on location, space for entertainment, and the view.  This time around, he seemed to have gotten harder to please; Irial hadn't been surprised when he'd shot down four of the _twenty-five_ homes they'd looked at without even getting out of the car.  Deborah had appeared near tears...of frustration.  He _wanted_ to feel bad, but if he was going to spend the foreseeable future (and an outrageous amount of money) in a house, fuck if it wasn't going to be _the_ damned house, and Crispin, in a moment of clarity, had said the exact same thing.   

Irial leaned against the dining room table, eyes on Crispin, "What do you think because Deborah's about ready to strangle you, love.  Don't get me wrong, I'm glad it's not me this time but..."   

Crispin sighed and ran a hand through his hair, "I _hate_ Primrose Hill.  It's where _every_ posh pretentious rich twenty-year-old in London lives."   

"Princess," Irial smiled at him gently, "we looked at _twenty-five_ houses.  Almost every detached home with parking and a garden in Central London; I think it's fair that, at least where real estate is concerned, you're posh and pretentious."   

Crispin sighed, "We _talked_ about that."   

"Yeah, we did," Irial assured him, "and I _get_ it, alright.  You think I _want_ to be dropping fifteen _million_ on one house?  I make like £150,000 this year...mind blown but you're all insistent about this _shit_ so I deal with it, yeah?  We've looked at _every_ house not in Primrose Hill.  There's _nothing_ on the market right now that has everything we want, and neither of us think it's a good idea to settle on house we're _buying_."   

Crispin sighed and walked over to Irial, moving to stand between his legs, dropping his head onto Irial's shoulder.  Irial carded his finger's through Crispin's windblown, tangled wavy locks and kissed his forehead, "If this house wasn't in Primrose Hill, what would you think of it?"   

"I fucking love this house.  It's got a garden and space to breathe and privacy and a driveway and very few neighbors who are right on top of us," Crispin peeked at Irial shyly.   

Irial laughed and put his hands on either side of Crispin's face, running his thumb along Crispin's cheekbones, "I could live here.  _We_ could live here.  Cherrie and Micah are like a five minutes walk away.  Benji and Dominic are like ten over by all those pubs and restaurants.  We have to Tube stations nearby for me.  And it's got _character_."   

Trying to bite back a grin, Crispin turned and pressed a kiss to Irial's palm, grinning and whining, "Iri...Primrose Hill?"   

Smirking at his boyfriend, Irial gave him a peck and nodded, "Primrose Hill."   

"Primrose Hill?" Deborah asked as she returned, looking hopeful, "You two like it, then?"   

_And_ Crispin dropped his head back on Irial's shoulders and groaned.  Irial laughed, "Yeah, we like it a lot."   

"Enough to put in an offer?"  Deborah asked.   

Irial looked down at Crispin who didn't even bother looking up just groaned again and waved a hand dismissively; laughing, Irial nodded, "Yeah, yeah, we'll put in an offer for £9 million."   

Crispin jerked his head up and stared at Irial in surprise; Deborah gaped, "That's _two million_ under asking."   

"Yeah.  Eleven million?  Crispin doesn't even _want_ to live in Primrose Hill.  It's the _first_ house we've found that we liked, and it needs to be inspected.  So, yeah, nine million."   

"All cash," Crispin continued.   

Irial gaped at Crispin who just shrugged like he hadn't just admitted he had _access_ to £9 million pounds _in cash_.  This is just what Irial got for dating a multi-millionaire, really.  Deborah held up a hand and picked up her phone, apparently ready to do this _right now_ , and Crispin shifted nervously, remaining pressed tightly to Irial's chest.  When his phone blared out 'Baby' by Justin Bieber, Crispin smirked and Irial rolled his eyes.   

It was the _only_ ringtone that had survived Crispin's ringtone assaults and only because Crispin found it entertaining and mocked Irial mercilessly for it.   

"Harry, how do you need?  We're kind of in the middle of—"   

"They're going to sue!" Harry said straight.   

Irial blinked, confused, and Crispin raised an eyebrow, "Wait...what?  We begin with proper nouns, remember?"   

Deborah reappeared then in the doorway, "They're countering at 10.5, all cash, and they'll throw in the furniture."   

"Hold on, Harry," Irial looked at Crispin who scowled.  Irial nodded, "9.5, we don't want the furniture, the house has been on the market for a while anyway, and _inspection_."   

Sighing, Deborah nodded and called back the seller's realtor.  Crispin pursed his lips thoughtfully, lips curving into a smile. The little shit was having _fun_ , which was _really_ the whole point of the exercise not how much Irial felt uncomfortable blowing eleven million pounds of Crispin's money.   

"Alright, I'm here, Harry.  _What's_ going on?"   

"Dissident is going to sue Breaking Fourth!"   

"What the hell are you talking about?  They can't just—" Irial began, furious; Crispin raised an eyebrow at him.  Irial held up a hand for him to wait.   

"The _video_ Irial!"   

"It's been almost two weeks!  And that wasn't _our_ fault!"   

"If you weren't _drunk_ it wouldn't have happened!"  Irial started to argue, but Harry continued before he could, "That's what _they're_ saying!  They're calling on the recklessness clause."   

"I—" Irial tried, sounding stricken, heart clenched tightly; Crispin looked worried and Deborah reappeared ending any discussion.   

Deborah took a breath, "Ten million flat, they'll pay for the inspection."   

"And take the furniture?"  Crispin pressed.   

Nodding, Deborah smiled but Irial shook his head,  "9.75, they pay for the inspection, we'll get rid of the furniture, and we'll do a three day close."   

Crispin choked, and Deborah gaped at him for a minute before nodding in a daze and walking out of the room.  Shaking his head, Crispin asked, "What the hell are we going to do with the house for another _two_ months?"   

"Clear everything out.  Paint.  Start packing up the flat and moving everything here.  Plus you have all those interviews this month in the Europe and America about the album release."   

Exhaling, Crispin nodded in understanding.  Harry yelled, "Irial!  Crisis here!"   

"I—"   

"You've got a deal," Deborah grinned as she walked back into the room.  "We'll draft up the papers and fax them to you boys tomorrow, yeah?  Welcome to Primrose Hill."   

Crispin scowled, "Joy."   

Irial tugged sharply on his hair and smiled at Deborah, "Thanks Deb.  If you could give us a minute?"  He waited until she'd walked out of the room before putting his mobile on speaker, holding it between him and Crispin, "Harry, what do I have to do to make this go away?"   

"They'd really quite prefer that you went away," Harry bitched over the line.   

Frowning, Crispin looked at Irial who met his gaze, for once not bothering to hide how much fear lurked in the back of his eyes.  Blinking in surprise, Crispin took the phone from Irial and wrapped an arm around him, letting Irial lean into him and take comfort from him despite the fact that it was _Crispin's_ life that would be destroyed if Irial couldn't fix this.   

"That's not an option," Crispin spoke.   

Silence came from over the line for a beat before Harry sighed in relief, "I realize.  Two other options, actually, they'd prefer both to be done in tandem: the first is to do a sort of denial on your radio show," Irial tensed, and Crispin ran a hand over his arm, trying to soothe him.  He relaxed slightly but only just, "Also, they want your ghost boyfriend to become real."   

This time Crispin tensed against Irial who pressed a comforting kiss to his neck before asking shakily, "I suppose you have a plan on how you best want to work this?"   

"I'm not a fan of this, Irial.  Not of beards.  Not of lies, even misdirection, especially as muddled as everything already is thanks to Dissident, but, yes, I have a plan if you're interested.  It's not going to be fun or easy or whatever, Irial, _think_ about this."   

Crispin pulled back and cupped Irial's chin in his hand, giving him a long, desperate look that conveyed how sorry he was, how dismayed by the situation he was, "You don't have to do to this."   

Irial took a deep breath and shook his head, smiling sadly at Crispin, "Yes I do.  Yes, _we_ do.  This isn't just about us, but it was just us who put the band in this situation."   

"Us and too many Tequila shots," Crispin scowled.   

Irial laughed slightly and pressed a kiss to Crispin's jaw, "I told you it's the Devil's drink."  Crispin blinked back tears, and Irial leaned forward, nipping his bottom lip and kissing his sweetly, softly, running his fingers through Crispin's hair and looping his arms around Crispin's neck, "I'm not going to let anything happen, alright?  Not to you.  Not to the boys.  Not to your career.  And not to our relationship, you hear me?  _We're_ going to be okay."   

"This is fucked up," Crispin said harshly.   

Irial nodded and tugged on Crispin's hair until he met Irial's gaze, eyes wide and searching for reassurance; Irial wasn't sure how he felt about this, _knew_ how Crispin felt about it, but he also understood that there was nothing he wouldn't do for Crispin.  Benji, Micah, and Dominic were Crispin's family and best friends and business partners, and he wouldn't let them sink because of him and Irial no matter how much he might want to sometimes.  And if that's what Crispin wanted, Irial would do anything he could to make sure he got that.   

"Harry, call Rosie, we're sitting down and signing a contract, because I have conditions too.  I'm not just going to let them own me," Irial said.   

Harry sighed in relief, "I'm sorry, Irial."   

Crispin kissed Irial's forehead and let his lips linger there; Irial closed his eyes and just let himself melt into Crispin, breathing with him, heart beating in time with him.

* * *

Cris sat on end of the couch, glaring at his laptop screen, barely even aware of Soren and Dominic's collective presence watching an episode of Teen Wolf on his television with way too high a level of interest from two grown men.

**Dorian finally spotted with his boyfriend?**  
It seems that maybe rumors within the fandom of Cris Emerson and Irial Dorian getting a little too close during Irial Dorian's twenty-third birthday party at Phoenix Bar in Chelsea might have finally pushed the radio DJ's boyfriend out of his own closet.  In the past two weeks alone, Dorian has been spotted all over London with a man who can just never stand still long enough to capture a candid shot!  Don't believe the hype after the drunk snog with Charlie Beck almost ten months ago?  Dorian hasn't only been spotted getting domestic with mystery man, but also snogging with him all around the city, most recently the pair were photographed snogging at Ministry of Sound nightclub after reportedly getting very intimate on the dance floor.  Don't know about you but we can't wait for cute pics and the details.

Those photographs were...Cris flinched.   

He knew what he'd been getting himself into, logically, known that his management was going to flood the media choke full of pictures of one of young UK's favorite radio hosts with his oh-so-elusive boyfriend who'd come out because he was jealous or insecure or what the hell ever.  Cris had seen it before, the PR bullshit over and over again with Micah and Jocelyn and Cheryl; of course, Harry's were more pointed, straight for the jugular and not as obvious.  Rosie and Harry knew the Breaking Fourth fandom inside and out, knew that they were aware of what a PR relationship looked like...which meant that Cris and Irial had to be as normal as possible to make it seem like Irial's 'secret boyfriend' had previously been a part of their lives before now.   

It also meant that Irial was always _on_ when he was out with his beard, which annoyed the living crap out of Cris.  It meant that there weren't just glossy, high def pictures of Irial and Brandon holding hands and kissing each other (not stage kissing because Rosie had rolled her eyes and said "bitch, please, I'm a _Larry_ shipper, people _know_ ) but also ones that random people had taken because they'd seen them...well...being cutesy together.   

And Cris was going to get problems with his teeth and jaws if he ground them together anymore.   

As much as he didn't want to, Cris found himself pulling up his Twitter, which was also some small semblance of normal.  Irial considered his Twitter sacred, like more sacred than Jerusalem was to Jews or Mecca was to Muslims or the Bible was to Christians, it was crazy.  That also meant that he never called Brandon his boyfriend on Twitter, never even really mentioned him in any way besides indirectly.  It also meant that he was constantly using Twitter as an excuse to talk to Cris when Harry had ordered him not to stand eight yards away from Brandon and look disinterested in his general existence when paps weren't on him.  Everyone knew Irial was obsessed with Twitter, and no one found it weird that he was constantly on his mobile during his dates to Tweet (usually Cris until management had glared at him and Harry had given him a bland look) and text (always Cris just so that he knew what was going on).

**Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
Think I was just called a fag for my choice in pants...like bitch there are so many other reasons to call me that #DontInsultMyPants #Tolerance #GetAFuckingLife #seriously  
  
Cris snorted and nodded, ignoring the looks Soren and Dominic shot at him and wondered how pissed his management would be if he retweeted some of the depressing #GoHomeToCrissy and #PrincessNeedsHisElf tweets that were spamming his and Irial's twitter accounts both.  He pulled up his news twitter for all things Irial and Brandon since this whole shit started and frowned when he read her latest tweet, seeing the picture of Irial and Brandon relaxed and comfortable with each other, in each other's space, holding hands and drinking their Starbucks frappuchinos as they strolled down King's Road, which fuck, Irial hated Starbucks.

**Crisial Updates (@CrisialUpdates)**  
Want to be like #HellNo but they do look cute and comfortable together...#DontDoThisToMe  
  
 **RT by @CrisialUpdates**  
 **Sassy Sara Says No (@darlingdori)**  
@DorianII confirmed he and @Cris_Emerson are moving out of their flat...please tell me #CrisialIsAlive like #wtf #ComeBack #LetUsLoveYou  
  
Gaping, Cris frowned at the retweet before flipping to Irial's twitter, scrolling until he found the offhanded tweet about packing sucking that he'd put up when Cris had been in studio and Irial had been packing up the living room.   

A hand slammed his laptop closed, and he looked up, already furious about the tweet, almost as much as he had been when Irial had flippantly dismissed their relationship as "really passionate fanfiction" on air under Ashton's probing gaze and Harry's patient tutelage, to see Dominic in front of him, arms crossed over his chest as he demanded, "What's the problem, Cris?"   

Cris sighed and ran a hand through his hair, "Irial round-about denied our relationship on his radio show.  He tweeted out that we're moving but not that we're moving out together.  And I want to murder Brandon Greer because he had sex with Irial."   

"When the hell did that happen?"  Soren gasped, incredulous.   

Dominic just looked skeptical while Cris sighed and ran a hand through his hair, "Not recently.  They...Irial's homophobic asshole ex who fucked him up?  Apparently, he found himself and was the only guy willing and available that Irial felt comfortable enough with to actually make this convincing."   

"It certainly is convincing," Soren remarked tonelessly, holding up his mobile.  "I think your shippers are dying...or your het girl fans are murdering them.   

"Irial's ex-boyfriend?  And you're okay with that?"  Dominic asked.   

"Of course I'm not okay with that," Cris snapped before taking a calming breath, "but he was the only one who had time and proximity.  He's between jobs."   

"What does that mean?"  Soren pressed.   

Cris gritted his teeth, "I don't _know_.  Irial won't tell me."   

Dominic and Soren shared an alarmed glance, all three of them jumping when the door opened and Irial came barreling inside.  He glanced at the three of them and raised an eyebrow, crossing the room regardless and pecking Cris on the lips as he dropped down on the couch to sit next to him, "Hey love.  Soren...Dominic...is this an intervention because I'm not on drugs or over-indulge alcoholic beverages."   

"You didn't tell me about you telling the world we're moving," Cris blurted.   

Sighing, Irial nodded, taking the laptop from Cris's hands and opening it to flip through all the tabs Cris had open, closing out of each of them until the only thing remaining was the screensaver of him and Irial grinning into a kiss that he'd snapped lazily one morning when they'd woken up slowly sharing a pillow because they couldn't stand to not be all over each other.  It had been a pointed gesture, and Cris sighed, closing the laptop and putting it on the floor before laying out across the couch and resting his head on Irial's lap.   

"I know, I should have told you, but I knew you'd be upset.  Harry's just...Harry's good at his job."   

"I know," Cris murmured.   

"You need to stop reading all that crap.  I send you everything you need to know; I'll have Harry CC you into the emails about what's going to be happening so that you have all that information and aren't taken by surprise again," Irial whispered.  Cris sighed and nodded, closing his eyes and just focusing on trying to shake off his melancholia, letting Dominic and Soren's quiet chatter about the whole Scallison versus Allisaac ships.  "We're gonna get through this."   

Cris knew that...he just hoped they made it through this without Cris giving management a big "fuck you" and just releasing a picture of them naked and snogging in a bed they obviously shared just because he couldn't fucking deal with the lies anymore.  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
I cannot have everything I want, the years have proven, but I don't want this, don't need this, don't have to have this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Phoenix Bar in Chelsea actually exists. And my feelings about Primrose Hill are what they are. Obviously, I've never been and/or lived there, but it seems like the Upper East Side for the young and wealthy. What can I say? I'm just more into the Hipster artist colonies like Chelsea in NYC (which I love) where all the novelists and screen writers live. Personal preferences.


	42. "Like They Used To" Joshua Radin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breaking Fourth has a blowout with management. Irial has a heart and borrows his boyfriend's car to prove it.

**Text message from Ariella to Mum**  
 **Ariella** : I'm not sure how comfortable I am with this  
 **Mum** : You know Cris wouldn't ask you to do this if it wasn't important  
 **Ariella** : I'm lying about...I'm LYING  
 **Mum** : Did Harry send you what you need to say?  
 **Ariella** : Yes and he thinks getting me and Rosie involved could go wrong  
 **Mum** : You promised Ari. Do it.  
  
 **Ariella Emerson (@Ariella_Em106)**  
People need to stop with the Crisial bullshit. It's not funny or helping anyone  
  
 **Text message from Irial to Crispin**  
 **Irial** : Your dog liked the backyard  
 **Crispin** : Good since it was all for him :)  
 **Irial** : I thought it was all for ME?  
 **Irial** : I knew you loved the dog more than me >.<  
 **Crispin** : Not true...I can't shag the dog  
 **Irial** : Dirty boy. What am I going to do with you?  
 **Crispin** : Tie me up and fuck me until I can't walk?  
 **Crispin** : Let me time you up and ride you until you can't speak from screaming while I come on you  
 **Crispin** : Or you could blow me. I'd never object to a bj  
 **Irial** : Fuck princess, what am I going to do with ME? Since you stole my vibrator and took it to gay Paris  
 **Crispin** : Suffer or wank or finger yourself...and preferably send me a video of you doing those things...or Skype with me while you do it  
 **Irial** : Fuck I miss you  
 **Crispin** : love you :*  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
My boyfriend is a fucking cocktease #ImHard #ComeBack #HelpMe  
  
 **B4 Updates (@B4_Updates)**  
@breakingfourth is doing an interview about their upcoming album in Paris #ImExcited  
  
 **Irish Rose (@rosieposie)**  
Everyone needs to stop spamming me about #Crisial @Cris_Emerson isn't gay and @DorianII has a bf that he loves  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
Would you like a free condom? They're boysenberry.  #justsaying #Juno #MovieNight  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
No thanks @DorianII. I'm off sex right now  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
@Cris_Emerson wears them every time we have intercourse makes his junk smell like pie balls #ImDying #SoInappropriate #ThisMovieThough  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@DorianII lmao...I can't. We're doing Mean Girls next, right?  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
Oh my God @Cris_Emerson you can't just ask people why they're white #HellYes #ThatMovieToo #MovieNight #ViaSkype #BecauseReasons

* * *

Everything in him said that this interview would piss him off.  Cris couldn't really explain why he felt that way, but ever since he'd woken up this morning after staying up until well past midnight watching movies on Netflix with Irial and commenting on them via Skype aloud, over Twitter, and majority (though certainly not all) of the dirty jokes being sent through texts, to Ashton's glare and Daniel's murderous gaze, Cris had felt the coming storm.   

"So you're sixth album, 'The Best Part', comes out July 31?"   

"Yeah," the boys nodded in agreement while Cris beamed, "The day after my birthday!"   

Pierre, their interviewer, nodded his French little head, pushing his tortoiseshell glasses up the bridge of his nose and asked, "Any special birthday plans?"   

Cris wrinkled his nose, "Not really.  Interviews.  Packing.  Moving.  Decorating.  More interviews.  I'm just really glad that we don't have a tour this year.  I can only imagine how positively frazzled I'd be."   

"Right," Pierre nodded, laughing slightly, "I'd imagine it would be tough getting all settled in a new house alone.  So you're all living alone now, then?"   

"I'm not," Micah commented, shooting Cris a careful glance.   

Dominic elbowed him, "He and his girlfriend, Cheryl, are shacking up.  Me?  I'm living out of a suitcase."   

"Back and forth to his girlfriend's house all the time," Benji snickered while Cris gritted his teeth.   

"Better than back and forth to mummy's house all the time!"  Dominic replied.   

"You excited to live alone again?"  Pierre asked Cris.   

Cris looked at him sharply, "I'm sure it'll hardly feel like that at all."   

"Because you and Dorian are still that close?"  Pierre pressed genially while the boys tensed beside him, "No changes in your friendship now that his boyfriend's more in the picture.  I can imagine it might be easy to get jealous when it's been you two alone for so long."   

_Is this an interrogation or an interview?_   

"I don't want to talk about that.  I don't want to talk about him," Cris said lightly as possible, though, given how taken aback Pierre looked and the poisonous glares his management shot him, apparently he'd failed.   

Dominic tried to steer the conversation back on track, "Still think as thieves, those two, but, either way, he's moving into our neighborhood, not a million miles away anymore.  I can walk over to join him for midnight Stars Wars movie marathons."   

Micah scoffed, "You mean _bully_ him into them?"   

"No, actually, that's not what I meant.  Lies and slander."   

"You're planning on releasing a third single I understand?"  Pierre prompted.   

Naturally, Micah took that question, "Yeah, we're releasing this great song called 'Lighthouse'.  It's definitely different musically for us.  Every time we release an album I feel like we talk about how we matured as musicians and people and songwriters, but I definitely just think that this album really showcased a different side of us musically and 'Lighthouse' reflects that really well."   

"Of course it does," Cris interrupted, surprising Micah who cringed as he shot a glance at management.  Cris simply smiled blithely, "The song and most of the album is about finding good in bad, about finding hope when there doesn't seem to be any left, about overcoming the bullshit and finding your own way through to happiness.  Lighthouses in general are symbols of hope; they shine out to sea so that ships can find their way back to port.  It's hopeful but still a bit sad."   

The boys tried to school their expressions while Pierre cleared his throat and nodded, "And you boys wrote most of the album?"   

"Well..." Dominic began carefully, "Cris did, really.  Cris and Micah usually do most of the writing, but Cris really outdid himself this time.  I feel like it's all really raw, and you can connect with the songs because nothing was held back from the lyrics, from the music, everything just carries you away on this emotional roller-coaster.  I'm quite proud of this album."   

Benji nodded thoughtfully, and Cris gave Dominic a grateful smile, elbowing him in the side.  Pierre cleared his throat and nodded, "Right, so, you boys told me earlier that you had an announcement you'd like to make."   

"Oh Lord," Benji groaned, shaking his head, " _this_."   

"It'll be fun!"  Dominic said cheerfully.   

Micah shook his head and Cris spoke, "Well, Dominic's a bit obsessed with One Direction."   

"Hey!" Dominic argued, "I'm not _obsessed_."   

"He fangirled when he met them on the red carpet at the AMAs two years ago," Cris stage-whispered.  Dominic slapped his arm.   

"Well...Micah began, "Dominic had the bright idea to follow in their boyband footsteps and do a full-day livestream."   

"With hopefully less technical errors," Cris added pointedly.   

"September Third from eleven to six we're going to try and fail to keep our fans—"   

"And ourselves," Dominic tacked on.   

"Entertained for the equivalent of a work day," Benji nodded.   

Micah informed Pierre, "We were going to try to beat the longest running uninterrupted live stream, but we thought thirty-six hours was a bit much."   

Pierre laughed, "I'd say.  Well, there you have it, 'The Best Part' release on July, keep an eye out for the release of their next single 'Lighthouse' and mark your calendars for September Third when Breaking Fourth will be on live stream all day helping to, hopefully, start a boyband tradition."   

Cris really hoped seven-hour web shows didn't become tradition or a rite of passage or something...terrible.   

The minute the cameras were off, management was storming across the stage and making a beeline for Cris who just pulled off his mic, paying his management not mind while the boys tensed.  Cris was too busy being _pissed_ to be _scared_.  He knew that question hadn't been random or coincidental; management had fed the twenty-something year old that question to prove something to the world.  But fuck if Irial wasn't doing enough to try and put up a facade for the world; Cris saw no reason to beat a dead horse.   

Micah stepped up closed to Cris's side, narrowing his eyes on Ashton, while Benji looked on silently the fact that he'd yet to move at all almost as much a warning as Micah stepping up to Cris's side.  Dominic was texting furiously, eyebrows drawn together in a frown and lips pressed together in a line.  Cris knew without even asking that he was probably texting either Irial or Harry or both, because Harry had a plan and Irial had a contract that he had bit his tongue to keep quiet about.  _This_ probably hadn't in the cards and definitely wasn't in the itinerary of shit that was guaranteed to piss him off that Harry CC'ed him into unlike his boyfriend's numerous outing and dates with fucking Brandon Greer.   

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"  Daniel demanded, appearing behind Ashton.   

Cris looked at both of them impassively, still riding more on anger than anything else, "An interview...a string of interviews that better not be filled with the same bullshit that this one was inundated with."   

"Does Harry know about this?" Micah asked from beside Cris.   

Daniel shot him a venomous look while Ashton stiffened, "Harold Benton-Sterling is spending all his time managing Dorian's PR, PR that you put in jeopardy every time you send sexual tweets back and forth.  That is what _mobiles_ are for."   

"They were movie quotes," Benji blinked owlishly.   

"And every single one of them was sexual," Daniel replied.  "What do you think people think when not only do you two have Skype movie dates that you _talk about over Twitter_ , but then you go and tweet each other sexual quotes?"   

Cris glared at him, "They think that we're weirdly co-dependent because I'm obviously straight because I apparently sleep with every female _thing that moves_.  And Irial has a boyfriend.  And we're both moving out of the flat and apparently Irial's not coming with me.  Who the fuck _knows_ what they think?  They don't know what _to_ think because everything's so damned muddled because you're terrified of even the slightest speculation that I could be the tiniest bit gay!"   

"And you're certainly helping transparency by saying shit like that during interviews!" Daniel shot back.   

"Get your shit together and talk to Harry," Micah replied for Cris.   

"This," Dominic looked up from his phone and gestured around the room, "can't happen again."   

"I was asked if I'm jealous that my boyfriend is out every other day and night pretending to date and snog and shag his ex-boyfriend," Cris said lowly, tone dangerous.  Benji eyed him carefully while Micah put a hand on his shoulder either for support or to hold him back, Cris wasn't actually sure he if _seriously_ thought _Cris_ would jump his management.  "You should accept small victories for the victories they are, because you're damn lucky I didn't just fucking outright say that they aren't together.  This is fucking bullshit that you even pulled my fucking _family_ into.  _I'm_ not doing this again."

* * *

It was probably a testament to how done he was with today that when he heard footsteps shuffling along the cobblestone towards him, Cris didn't even look up from staring into the depths of the river.  The person sat down beside him and held a paper bag in front of his face, asking, "Macaroon?"   

Cris took the bag without looking bag and collapsed against Irial's side, pulling out one of the treats and munching on it silently; Irial put a hand on Cris's knee and squeezed it, waiting for Cris to be ready to talk.  He finished a macaroon and glanced over at Irial, "How did you find me?"   

"Dominic, as it turns out, downloaded an app to track all of you."   

"Creepy."   

"Quite, but useful as we all found out," Irial said.   

Cris nodded and then really _looked_ at his boyfriend, realizing he was in _Paris_ not on a fake date with Brandon at some posh nightclub he'd stumble out of drunk at one in the morning.  And it was a Wednesday so Irial had had work today and _did_ have work tomorrow.  Plus, Irial looked like he'd just thrown on the first thing he'd put his hands on in the closet, which meant a pair of 2012 London Olympic sweatpants that were very clearly Cris's tucked in a pair of Uggs and an Arsenal t-shirt, hair tucked up under a massive slouch beanie.  He looked comfortable...and _in Paris_.   

"Did you fly here?"   

Irial scoffed, "I wish.  Five hour drive almost right after work.  Fucking intense."   

Cris blinked in alarm, "You drove my car?"   

"God no," Irial shook his head, "you love your car, and I figured impromptu, cross Europe road trips aren't the place to learn to drive.  No, Harry drove, and Rosie provided entertainment...do you know her road trip playlist has the Goo Goo Dolls _and_ 'Bangerz' in it?"  He shook his head sadly as though he was disappointed her severe lack of taste.   

"She has a road trip playlist?"  Irial elbowed him in side, and Cris rested the bag of macaroons on the ground between his legs, dropping his hand over Irial's and lacing their fingers together, "Where are your partners in crime?"   

"Harry went to chew out your management, and Rosie is trouncing your bandmates at Rock Band, which is sad.  I do believe Harry has plans to wine and dine her afterwards, though.  He's enterprising like that."   

"So you saw the interview, then?"   

Irial squeezed his fingers tightly, "You lack a pokerface, love.  We can't get married in Monte Carlo, we'll come home broke."  Cris laughed weakly, resting his forehead on Irial's shoulder, "So you don't like Brandon, which I realized but I didn't realize it was quite so passionate.  I probably should have, you _are_ possessive."   

"You're mine," Cris retorted stonily.   

"Exactly, and I have the lovebites and bruises and scratches to prove it _all over my body_ so let's explore your jealousy for a minute then, yeah?"   

Cris sighed and seriously just considered pulling the whole 'jealousy isn't rational' excuse, but then figured if Irial had drove five hours from London with Harry and Rosie and her poor taste in music for company to have this conversation, he might _actually_ smack Cris.  He tightened his hand on Irial's to the point where it had to be painful but Irial said nothing, just waited, "I _hate_ Brandon.  I hate that he ever touched you.  I hate that you ever felt anything for him.  I hate that he hurt you as much as he did.  I hate that you're fucking _everywhere_ with him _all the time_ , and all I see are pictures of the two of you snogging or clubbing or being whatever together.  I hate the people want to ask me about it and that it's my own damn fault it's happening and that you two are actually so fucking _friendly_ with each other.  And that you could feel something for him again and that I feel like I never _see_ you anymore and that people think you're moving out and that management wants me to go on a PR date with some socialite because apparently I keep screwing with the image of you they're trying to create.  I _hate_ all of this."   

Realizing how much he'd blown up, Cris stiffened and peeked up at Irial who was just looking down at him with a soft expression, shaking his head, "So…you're insecure in our relationship because you think I could leave you—and might—for my troubled ex-boyfriend, feel like I'm too busy partying and snogging my ex to be home with you especially considering people genuinely think that we aren't going to be living together in another month or so, and hate that your management basically wants to starve our relationship until it dies and pulled our family and friends into this shit show.  Did I get that right?"   

Huffing out a laugh, Cris nodded, "I think so."   

"Great," Irial said decisively, nodding, "first, Brandon and I are _never_ going to happen again.  You're going to have to let go of the jealousy that we ever shagged like how I pretend I don't know you and Arthur Bailey used to."   

Cris startled then blushed, shrugging sheepishly, "You idolize him: besides, it happened twice a while ago.  It's not like anything's going to happen again."   

Irial nodded pointedly, and Cris sighed, burying his head into Irial's shoulder, "Crispin, our relationship ended with him calling me a fag and telling me that I would burn in hell for being the way that I am.  Maybe, _maybe_ we can be _friends_..." Cris scowled, and Irial laughed, squeezing his hands, "or maybe not, but he might have gotten over that internalized homophobia where those words came from and we may be able to laugh at things together, but nothing is ever going to happen between us, even if either of us was interested, he's too ashamed of who he was to ever cross that line.  So, get your mind out of the gutter.  I'm not leaving you for my ex-boyfriend, and I'm certainly not shagging him between work and you and your management and the press, when would I find the time or the privacy?"   

Laughing slightly, Cris nodded, and Irial continued, "I know that you hate that I'm always out now, especially because I enjoy being out and clubbing and partying and drinking."   

"Who, you?" Cris joked weakly.   

"But Crispin, I love you, and, yeah, it bothers me that we can't go out and be the way that Brandon and I pretend to be, which I know is part of what bothers you, but it's fine.  I come home to you every night...or very early morning depending...and you make me tea and let me sit on your lap while we watch ridiculous reality television, and I love that because you're there and we're together.  You need to understand that I'm not going to walk out you even though I can.  That I love being with you, even privately and covertly, more than I enjoy clubbing and partying and drunken snogging at bars and nightclubs."   

"But—" Cris began worriedly.   

Irial shook his head and cut him off, "No buts, honestly.  I can work on coming home earlier, alright?  It'll get easier; _this_ will get easier, or, at least, we'll learn how to manage it better, yeah?"  Cris pursed his lips and stared at Irial for a moment, taking in the determination on his face before smiling slightly and nodding; Irial smiled and kissed Cris's nose quickly, "Excellent, and what socialite is becoming your PR girlfriend very much against Harry's rules?"   

Groaning, Cris wrinkled his nose, "Davina Allard."   

Choking on a laugh, Irial fought the wide, amused grin spreading across his face while trying to keep from laughing; Cris elbowed him but couldn't stop his own grin from growing, shaking his head and huffing out a couple guffaws of laughter when Irial said, "Davina Allard?  Davina _Allard_?  So, you're not only the biggest man-slut on the planet, you're also tasteless now.  Oh my God, Davina Allard, I can't, I'm done, Harry's gonna be _pissed_."   

They both devolved into peels of laughter that left them both breathless, stomachs aching, and arms thrown around each other to keep each other upright.  When they finally managed to calm down, Cris looked over at Irial's flushed face and smiled softly, unbelievably thankful that he'd convinced Harry to drive five hours just to have a conversation about their relationship in Paris, "You're staying tonight, right?"   

"Of course," Irial said cheerfully, "that's why I didn't bring the children.  They both have morning classes, and I don't have to be at work until 2:30 so there was no reason I would be leaving at the crack of dawn."   

Ignoring his better judgment, Cris cupped Irial's face and kissed him deeply, sweetly, grateful and appreciative, pulling away before Irial deepened the kiss and Cris forgot they were technically in public; Irial smiled at him softly and hopped to his feet, pulling Cris up by his hand and smiling at him softly, "You know, there's a tattoo place like two blocks from here."   

"That's your answer to everything in life, isn't it?"  Cris scooped up his macaroons and followed Irial like he was tethered to him wishing that he could hold his hand but knowing that couldn't.   

Irial scoffed, "Like you're totally _not_ going to find some late night crêperie and make my finish my Nutella crepe before you fuck me."  Cris bit his lip, ducked his head and beamed impishly; Irial nodded knowingly and hip-checked him, "Yeah, I know you, princess.  Anyway, I was thinking a sparrow flying towards a nautical star.  Do you want the star or the sparrow?"   

"Lovely, you have all this decided, elf?"  Irial shrugged, and Cris beamed, saying, "Then don't let me stop your plans...and speaking of plans why does my phone say that I'm going to Yellowstone the week of my birthday?"   

"Our calendars are synced?"   

"Why are you going to Yellowstone the week of my birthday?" Cris pouted, seriously hoping that this wasn't another of his management's bright ideas to make it seem like Irial weren't so close that they were shagging.   

Grinning, Irial said cheekily, "Because it's your _birthday_ , I have vacation time saved up, and you're apparently obsessed with national parks."  Cris's mouth dropped open in surprise before he grinned at Irial wonderstruck at how he'd gotten so lucky; Irial glanced over at him and rolled his eyes but couldn't keep the pleased smile off his face as he said, "Yeah, yeah, love, I know I'm the best boyfriend ever."   

He said it lightly, and Cris couldn't resist leaning over quickly to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth because, yeah, he actually kind of was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie I was surprised that Paris is only five hours away by car even though I knew, logically, that it wasn't really all that far. Whatever. Surprises, surprises. I'm not a fan of Paris, I'll admit. But their crepes are amazing. And it was the city that introduced me to Nutella, and I'm hella obsessed with Nutella.


	43. "It Girl" Jason Derulo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Early morning hikes through Yellowstone prove surprisingly interesting.

**Cris Emerson and Davina Allard, dating?**  
We've been hearing all about the popstar's best friend making appearances with a man assumed to be his boyfriend with no confirmation from Dorian.  Apparently, Cris decided to join in on the public dating game as well.  Recently, while Dorian's been teasing us with glimpses of his elusive boyfriend, Cris has been getting to know socialite, Davina Allard.  The pair have been seen at football matches, strolling through the park, dinners at some of the best restaurants in the city, and sneaking into and out of the socialite's Central London penthouse in the wee hours of the morning.  While there's been no confirmation of a relationship, we certainly can't wait for more details.  
  
 **Reblogged by catchingdreams092815**  
 **Tumblr Post: elfluvshisprincess**  
 **How about we all get real?**  
I had my moment of doubt about Crisial when Irial started snogging mystery man in clubs, their friends and family started swinging back, and Irial and Cris supposedly moved out of their flat into separate residences (supposedly).  But, it didn't last, I'm back onboard. I mean it started with Cris and DAVINA ALLARD? Come on, just way to be obviously desperate to make Cris look like a manwhore Dissident. And Cris had that moment in the France interview, Irial for the first time wasn't spotted out with his bf (Paris is 5 hrs away from London by car just saying), and the next day Cris has two sparrows tattoos on his hips/stomach and "If you're going through hell..." tattooed on his wrist. Not an hour later, Holden Ireland posted a pic of Dorian shirtless and washing Cris's dog (at a house with a backyard...wonder where he was and seriously Cris's dog?) with a new nautical star tattoo under his bellybutton and a bandage on his wrist (wonder what he has tattooed under there). Sparrows mate for life, firstly. They represent freedom, soulmates, and freedom to love and find your soulmate when in connection with the nautical star.  Their tattoos alone convince me...but, on another note, DAVINA????  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
From July 29-Aug 5 I'll be offline a lot. Don't panic. There's just no cell service where I'm going >:O #IllTry #DontMissMeTooMuch  
  
 **B4 Updates (@B4_Updates)**  
@breakingfourth album out in 2 days after @Cris_Emerson's bday!!!!  
  
 **Crisial Updates (@CrisialUpdates)**  
Cris is offline. Dorian's offline. It's Cris's bday week...#ThatsNotSuspicious #NoDavinaThough  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
I found wifi at a sketch coffee shop! I've never been so excited!  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
There's a bison right out the window but the cashier's staring at me and my tats like #wtf #HowDoesThatEvenMakeSense  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
It's someone's 21st birthday XD.........@Cris_Emerson

* * *

"My arse hurts way too much for this."   

" _Such_ a princess.  You picked the pace not me; it's hardly _my_ fault.  Next time, we'll forgo enthusiastic birthday sex in favor of crossword puzzles and oatmeal so that you don't come to any harm."   

Crispin made a noise of protest, and Irial smirked, looking over his shoulder at his exhausted boyfriend, hands entwined as Irial propelled him through the expanse of forest, torch lighting the way as the sky had only just begun to shift from inky black dotted by thousands of silvery stars to a soft gray.   

Yellowstone was interesting to say the least and blissfully anonymous except at the KoA campground they'd set up camp in for about a day before Crispin and Irial had both felt like there were too many eyes and cameras so they'd packed up their rental and learned from a couple of experienced campers in the actual park how to set up a tent, make a fire, and survive in the wilderness.  It had been an adventure...and cold...and snowy...and weird.  In the three days they'd been in the park, they'd gone through just about every season, now they were back in summer once again, which Irial welcomed with open arms.   

Naturally, Hipster tree-hugger Crispin was enthralled with the park, and Irial couldn't even pretend not to feel the same way.  Everything felt so otherworldly, ancient almost with tiny little towns surrounded by miles and miles of untouched landscape.  Deers wandered into the town, comfortable not only with the human settlement but with their own survival amongst them.  Fucking _bison_ were _everywhere_ even outside the park, wandering around the surrounding towns every now and then before wandering back the way they'd come.  There were mountains and plains and geysers and natural hot springs, one that could even cook a fish full through in under ten seconds, and apparently some apocalyptic volcano underneath that could erupt at any moment and plunge the world into Armageddon if it did.   

Crispin hadn't stopped taking pictures since they arrived, and Irial found it endearing instead of annoying, though he had threatened to shove him off the little Grand Canyon (where they'd spent most of Crispin's birthday theorizing how the hell that female mountain goat had gotten onto the opposite ledge when it was all just sheer drop) if he took one more picture of Irial.  Scenery, he could handle but he'd spent the last two months of his life getting way too many pictures of himself taken.  No more.   

Irial looked back at Crispin, trekking along the path in only a tank top, Irial's oversized basketball shorts (that fit him perfectly that _ass_ ), and his sneakers, which, as he kept complaining, were not made for hiking.  He looked about ten seconds from rebelling, mussed, disgruntled, and eyes still glazed with sleep.  Irial figured he was handling all of this pretty well considering their jet-lag, actual lack of sleep due to Crispin's insatiable sexual appetites, and how early and abruptly Irial had awoken him to drag him out of the tent and down a hiking path.   

"Where the hell are we going before the sun's even up, Iri?"  Cris whined.   

Irial chuckled, "A place."   

"Irial!"   

"Don't worry, love, I'm not about to murder you in the great wide expanse of forest and then laugh when your management tries to cover up my crimes so people think we weren't together even post-mortem."   

"How reassuring," Crispin replied dryly.   

"I quite thought so."  Crispin sighed from behind Irial and jogged a little to catch up with Irial, taking the proffered water bottle and swigging it.  Irial looked at him sideways, "I'm giving you your birthday present."   

"The sunrise doesn't count unless you're God, you realize that, right?"  Crispin chirped, knocking his shoulder into Irial's and smiling cheekily at him.   

Irial elbowed him, pressing closer to his side and saying, "Prat, I meant a _real_ present.  An actual, tangible one."   

"Oh?"  Crispin asked archly, shaking his head, "you mean besides the tickets to Leeds, which... _oh my God_ you got me tickets to _Leeds_ festival; Soren and I are going to have so much fun."   

"Are you quite finished?  And don't even pretend you wouldn't bring Dominic.  _Soren_?  _That_ was the best you could come up with for the purpose of being a cheeky little shit?"   

Shrugging, Crispin tugged Irial closer to his side, kissing his cheek before stopping him, free hand turning Irial's head so that he could give him a proper kiss.  Irial's lips parted under Crispin's, tongues tangling together, quickly becoming heady and passionate; Irial moaned into Crispin's mouth when one hand ghosted over Irial's waist and over his ass, propelling Irial closer until they were chest to chest, grinding their hips into each other and breaths mingling as they devoured each other.   

Moving his hands to Crispin's hips, Irial traced over his boyfriend's sparrow tattoos before pushing Crispin away from him; Crispin whined at the loss of contact, pupils blown, lips swollen, and chest heaving in time with Irial's.  He held up a finger between them, eyes narrowing on Crispin with no real heat, "We're going to be late.  And we already tried having sex in the forest _multiple_ ways and discovered it's not nearly as glamorous as it sounds."   

Sighing heavily, Crispin ran a hand through his hair and gave Irial an exasperated look, "What could we _possibly_ be late for?"  He pouted, palming his erection through the shorts and releasing his breath in a huff at the friction.  Irial grabbed his wrist to stop him, and Crispin glared at him, "Is this about the bear?  It didn't kill us if I recall."   

Rolling his eyes and tossing him an incredulous look, Irial retorted, "The lecture from the park ranger was _far more_ traumatizing than almost being eaten by a bear, Crispin Emerson.  And, no, we're not risking getting caught with our pants down again because you're horny."   

"You made me this way; you have a duty to do something about it," Crispin informed him petulantly.   

" _Places_ to be _Crispin_.  Maybe, afterwards, if you can keep your hands _off_ yourself or refrain from throwing yourself at me to try and steal my virtue—"   

"I'm pretty sure I stole that when I fucked you bare on the kitchen island.  Or when my _sister_ walked in on us and you actually got me to continue fucking you regardless.  Or when we shagged against the wall of an alley at a party because you're a handsy drunk who gave me a hand job at a table with our friends.  Or when I fingered you during one of your vlogs right in front of the camera and no one caught me.  Or—"   

"I quite get it, Crispin, no need to dredge up our whole sexual history.  The point is _after_ I will help you get rid of this," he stepped into Crispin's space and palmed the bulge in Crispin's pants pointedly, smiling innocently while Crispin moaned, biting his lips and dropping his head on Irial's shoulder and lightly dragging his teeth along his Irial's eagle tattoo, which went straight to Irial's already half-hard dick, but he had enough self control to _not_.  "But right now, your birthday present.  We're on a schedule, love."   

Crispin grumbled, scowling as Irial pulled away, grabbing Crispin's hand again and tugging him along, "What the hell are we going to be late for in the middle of nowhere?"   

"Sunrise!"  Irial didn't even have to _look_ to know Crispin was glaring at him; he looked over his shoulder and confided, "It's for ambiance."   

"This better be the best late birthday present ever, Irial, or I swear I will kill you."   

"I hope it's after I blow you.  Your dick's looking desperate for attention," Irial pointed out cheerfully.   

"And who's fault is that?" Crispin demanded incredulously.   

"Yours.  No one _told_ you to jump me in the middle of a forest and the _literal crack of dawn_."  Irial felt Crispin's glare on him and beamed, kissing Crispin's knuckles and towing him along despite his pout, he followed along wordlessly, "And it will be mind blowing."   

Crispin huffed skeptically, and they continued silently, hand in hand until they finally broke through the treeline; the ledge wasn't tiny enough to make Irial worry for his safety but not big enough to overwhelm him when he already felt like throwing up.  He'd been running on anxiety and nerves since he'd asked their camping tutors the best spot for...well... _this_ , which was how he'd ended up dragging his boyfriend through the forest before the sun came up.  But, it's okay, everything would be fine...right?   

His camping Mr. Miyagis had been spot on; the view was breathtaking.  The trail overlooked a valley, a huge lake stretching across, the mountains rising up in the distance.  Bison, as per usual, were grazing lazily, swans swam in the lake, which reflected the vivid reds, oranges, and pinks of the sunrise.  Crispin's mouth fell open in surprise, and he glanced back at Irial who leaned against the tree, eyes scanning over the landscape and taking it in while trying to calm his racing heartbeat and overwhelming nerves, before walking forward, standing on the very edge and smiling broadly.   

Drawing in a slow, calming breath, Irial forced himself to relax, eyes on Crispin who just seemed enchanted by the sight of the sun rising over the valley.  Hand in pocket, Irial wrapped his hand around the ring box in his pocket.  He'd had _seven_ months to get the courage to do this; he'd spent _seven_ months trying to figure out _how_ to do this, if _should_ do this, if they were _ready_ to do this.  He had, and they should, and they were, and if Crispin dropped anymore hints about wanting to get married only to flinch back when he remembered how Irial felt about marriage the kid would put himself out of his own misery; in any case, Irial knew Crispin well enough to know that while he trusted Irial and knew that he loved him, he'd always had those thoughts that Irial not marrying him was an excuse to say that he didn't want to be tethered to him, tied down by him, so that he could walk out any time.   

Thing was: _that_ was total bullshit.   

He could barely go an hour without talking to him let alone just walk away from him; they'd tried that already in UAE, and Irial had spent five hours in McDonalds trying not to puke at the taste of cold black coffee sludge and waiting for Crispin to show up after he'd sent out an ill-advised Tweet that had basically said 'I didn't go anywhere, come find me.'  Irial just wasn't good with emotions, wasn't good with expressing, and was patently logical, which was _why_ he didn't agree with marriage.  People _weren't good at it_ , had _never_ been good at it.  Like one in a million people _actually_ managed to have functional relationship with someone they claimed to love like one, five, ten, fifteen years ago.  Irial didn't want to be one of those people, didn't want to fail at a relationship, _especially_ didn't want to fail at a relationship with _Crispin_.   

Marriage was a step, a huge step, and maybe that had been the problem.   

Irial had been freaking out about what a huge step marriage would be...but it _wasn't_.  It shouldn't be, being afraid of failure wasn't an excuse not to get married.  Cop out.  Like when celebrities say they're not going to get married until gay rights is legal...bitch appreciate that _you_ can get married and don't blame the lack of widespread yay for the gay on why you won't marry the bitch, seriously.  And maybe he did think it was an antiquated tradition.  And maybe he was afraid of failure.  But that wasn't an excuse, not when Crispin wanted to be married _so_ badly and was trying _so_ hard to hide it because Irial _didn't_.   

Marriage wasn't supposed to be a huge step.  It was supposed to be an extension of what they already had, a promise between God, country, and Crispin that they were going to be _CrispinandIrial_ until death do them part.   

That was the plan anyway.   

They were going to fail or succeed, stay together or fall apart all on their own regardless of whether or not they were married.  Crispin _wanted_ to, and Irial had no excuse beyond 'I don't really feel marriage', which wasn't an excuse at all.   

Besides, it was Crispin.  If marriage changed their relationship, if they couldn't make marriage work then it was on them not the institution, but they'd never know if they didn't try.  _Irial_ would never know, and he _wanted_ to.   

"Alright," Crispin admitted, walking up to Irial with a broad smile split across his face; he ran his hands up Irial's arms, the hairs springing up under Crispin's touch, and looping his arms around Irial's neck, anchoring his hands in Irial's hair, "maybe it was worth getting up at five in the morning and hiking through the woods."  Irial smiled weakly and nodded, taking a shaky breath.  Crispin frowned and massaged his thumbs at the base of Irial's scalp, and Irial preened, closing his eyes and tipping his head back into the touch.  Laughing uneasily, Crispin tapped the nape of his neck with his thumbs and Irial opened his eyes to look at him, "What's wrong elf?"   

Nervously, Irial shook his head and promised vehemently, "Nothing.  Nothing's _wrong_ , it's just..." He took a deep breath, rolled back his shoulders, and nodded, stepped away from Crispin and over to the ledge, turning around to face Crispin.   

He was worry his bottom lip, shoulder length waves of dark hair tousled and windblown.  The hideous wood and floral patch Ray Bans that Irial had actually broke down and bought Crispin as a part of his birthday present hooked on the neck of his Drop Dead sleeveless tee, the wooden dog zip-drive necklace hanging from around his neck, tattoos exposed and stretching over his toned and muscular arms, the jade stud in his ear matching the one in Irial's tongue, and a ridiculous number of stereotypical braided bracelets and band rubber bracelets.   

He was Crispin, and perfect for Irial, and all he could ever imagine wanting.   

"Crispin."   

"Elf."   

Irial bit his lip and grinned at him, "So..."   

"So...this is awkward."   

"It...I...yeah, it wasn't supposed to be.  You'd think I had this together since I've been planning this since Perth."   

"Australia?" Crispin blinked in surprise, smiling slightly at Irial's supreme embarrassment, "You've been planning my birthday since Perth, Australia at the beginning of December?"   

"I...I love you, and I need you to just...don't talk right, alright?  I need to just..."   

Crispin smiled at him softly, moving a step towards him before rocking back on his heels and crossing his arms over his chest, "Anything you want, babe."   

Great, now they were both nervous.   

Fantastic.   

"I thought you were mental when we met," Crispin's mouth dropped open in surprise, but he laughed slightly.  Irial continued, "You were rambling on and on about expectations and should you be happy and I legitimately thought you were completely mental, but that's not why I wouldn't give you my number.  You were mental and weird and adorable but somehow endearingly, charmingly sexy all at the same time, and you also looked underage so _that_ was a problem.  And I wanted you from the second you tripped me and apologized and then wouldn't stop, but Rosie was _right_ and I liked you and that meant I couldn't sleep with you, because I had a problem and not everyone's Harry.  And then you fucking found me, and I thought you were an axe murderer and then I kind of wanted to blow you in the store or on the sidewalk or on the Tube or wherever but you were there and I thought you were straight and I couldn't touch you, but I had to and I did and then I couldn't stop even when I thought you didn't—couldn't—want me like I want you.  But you did and we shagged to fucking _Pierce the Veil_ who you took me to see on our first anniversary like the romantic sap you are.  And Crispin," Irial huffed desperately, pretty close to tears and a little winded.   

Crispin looked _done_ and thrown and shocked but awed too.  He met Irial's eyes, dazed, and nodded; the nerves drained from Irial as he closed the distance between them, carding his fingers through Crispin's hair before cupping his face, "Crispin, love, we fit, and I didn't think that was even possible.  I've never wanted _anyone_ as much as I want you, and I've never loved anyone as much and I can't even imagine it's possible to.  You're a bit ridiculous and like to pretend you're not as dramatic as me and so Hipster that you wanted to pretend housing didn't turn you into a pretentious, posh prick born to live in Primrose Hill," Crispin laughed and Irial continued, "but you're my best friend and the love of my life, and I'm willing to deal with your management and your fucked up schedule and your PR dates with a turnout from the biggest media whore on the planet because I can't even imagine life without you and I don't want to and marry me."   

Well...that escalated quickly.   

Blinking in shock and flinching back, completely taken by surprise, Crispin balked at him for a minute, shaking his head and biting his lip, blinking back tears, "I...um...but you don't..."   

"Crispin," Irial cut him off and bent Crispin's head down to rest their foreheads together, gazes locked, Crispin hopeful and terrified.  "Do you want to marry me?"   

"You—"   

"No, do _you_ want to marry me?"   

Laughing out humorlessly, teary, Crispin nodded his head, "That's _all_ I want."   

Nodding, Irial reached into his pocket, fishing out the ring box he'd been hiding and carrying around and thinking about _obsessively_ for _months_.  He opened it and held it up between them while Crispin visibly startled, gingerly taking the box in his hand, running a finger over the $1300 white gold ring Irial had bought almost eight months ago on whim in Australia decorated with Roman Numerals and almost perfectly matched the style of their pocket watch and compass tattoos.  Crispin stared it in shock.   

"Then," Irial began, and Crispin looked up and met his gaze, eyes wide and wet and a smile spreading across his face, "shut up and marry me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yellowstone National Park is absolutely beautiful. And the Kampgrounds of America (KoA) are also kind of awesome; they have everything there. Anyway, this chapter was really introspective of Irial, but I'm pretty happy with Irial's rambling proposal.


	44. "Bravado" Lorde

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cris hides from his PR girlfriend and gets yelled at by his besties for keeping secrets...so, the usual.

**Shipping Crisial <3 (nic_nac_89)**  
Who else thinks 75% of @breakingfourth new album is about #Crisial?  
  
 **This Album Is Life (@JennaBreaker32)**  
@breakingfourth new album is AMAZING  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
Oh my God, London! @Cris_Emerson  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
Oh my God, Los Angeles! @DorianII  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
'Forever' by Ben Harper  
  
 **Candace (@CandaceFlynn_)**  
@CrisialUpdates pic floating around of Dorian and Cris at a KOA in Montana 2gether. Real?  
  
 **Crisial Updates (@CrisialUpdates)**  
@CandaceFlynn_ could be...they both went MIA most of last wk then Tweeted at weird times within minutes of each other.  
  
To: crossesoflead@gmail.com.uk; mustlovedogs@gmail.com.uk; djkinsey@gmail.com.uk; chriscrossedmicah@gmail.com.uk  
Cc: george.daniel@dissidentmanagement.org.uk; sterling.harry@dissidentmanagement.org.uk  
From: sawyer.ashton@dissidentmanagement.org.uk  
Subject: August Awards Itinerary  
Arrival in LAX: Sat, Aug 5 20:45  
Teen Choice Awards: Sun, Aug 6 19:00  
Ellen Degeneres show: Mon Aug 7 10:00  
*Cris date with Davina Allard: Tues, Aug 8 12:00  
E! Interview: Thurs, Aug 10 13:00  
*Cris with Davina: Fri Aug 11 8:00-18:00  
J-14 shot and interview: Sat, Aug 12 & Sun, Aug 13  
Conan O'Brian Taping: Tues, Aug 15 11:00  
*Cris and Davina: Wed, Aug16-Thurs, Aug 17  
Good Day LA Interview: Fri, Aug 18 7:00  
Departure from LAX: Sat, Aug 19 6:45/Arrival in JFK: 15:00  
GMA Interview & Performance: Mon, Aug 21 7:00  
Seventeen photoshoot & interview: Cris (Wed, Aug 23), Micah (Thurs, Aug 24), Dominic (Fri, Aug 25), Benji (Sat, Aug 26)  
*Cris flt to LHR: Thurs, Aug 24 8:30  
Radio Disney call-in: (Micah and Nic) Sat, Aug 26  
*Cris flt from LHR to JFK: Mon, Aug 28 8:25  
*Cris and Davina: Mon, Aug 28 16:00-21:00  
Andy Cohen: Tues, Aug 29 22:00  
On-air With Ryan Seacret call-in: (Cris & Benji) Wed, Aug 30 11:15  
MTV Music Video Awards: Thurs, Aug 31 (Rehearsal 10:00)  
Departure from JFK to LHR: Fri, Sept 1 6:45  
  
 **Transcript from Teen Choice Awards**  
 **Chloe Masters** : And the awards for biggest Twitter personality goes to...Irial Dorian!  There's a surprise...who isn't here so...does anyone want to claim his award?  
 **Cris** : (shocked but smiling, whispers) Can I get it?  
[Ashton nods. Cris goes on stage. The boys laugh and clap]  
 **Chloe Masters** : You again!  
 **Cris** : (smiles shyly) Me again.  
 **Chloe Masters** : What's this?  The sixth time someone from your brood's been up here tonight?  Let's see if I can remember: Best Group, Best Love Song, Best Summer Song, Best Summer Music Star Group, Choice Single Group, and you won male hottie, which...duh.  Did I forget anything?  
 **Cris** : Dominic won best smile because look at those dimples!  And, anyway, this isn't mine. Iri isn't here so I'll be taking this for him I guess. He didn't think he'd win, and, anyway, he has work tomorrow.  
 **Chloe Masters** : Today...eight hour time difference.  
 **Cris** : Right then, good morning elf.  
 **Chloe Masters** : You know, he was nominated for web star...for the tour vlogs that even I watched.  
 **Cris** : (smiles) Then, I guess I'll be seeing you again soon, Chloe.

* * *

"How was your date?" Dominic called out, snickering into his hand as soon as Cris got into the room.   

Cris sighed; it was going to be one of _those_ days.

**Iri** : Did anyone TELL Davina that these were PR dates?  I'll cut a bitch.   

Scoffing and rolling his eyes, Cris looked up as Micah walked into the room, smacking Dominic in the back of the head with the bathroom hand towel and dropping down to sit beside a sniggering Benji.  "He had to spend five hours with a spoiled Hollywood heiress.  Can we not ask stupid questions?"   

Point.

**Cris** : Attacking people is illegal

**Iri** : I'll take that risk ._.   

Cheerful but he hadn't really expected anything less from Irial, and, besides, Cris officially knew how he felt.  If he saw one more news article or Tumblr post or Tweet about Irial and his 'boyfriend' Cris was going to put his fist through a wall.  Irial and Brandon were all around London in Cris's absence, partying and snogging and being photographed snogging, which was the whole _point_ but it still pissed him off regardless.  Irial was _his_ , and Cris wanted to destroy the whole world for thinking he belonged to some secretive, lowlife, self-hating dick head who wasn't fucking Cris.   

What-the-fuck-ever.   

It made him feel at least a little better Irial basically snapchatted his evenings.   

"Exactly," Benji remarked, "better question: how amazing was Leeds?"   

Cris gasped and collapsed onto the bed at Benji and Micah's feet, "Fabulous.  Fantastic.  Disgusting but also really, really amazing.  Did you watch any of Cheryl and Iri's pit reports?"   

Dominic barked out a laugh, "There were pit reports?  Oh...were those in the two _dozen_ emails you sent us of all the goods times we were missing, hanging out in New York and doing interviews?"   

"You're quite the fun-sucker, aren't you?" Cris inquired, and Dominic grinned, sticking his tongue out at Cris before sitting down on his stomach.  Cris coughed in surprise at the sudden hundred plus pound man sitting on his gut before just grimacing and letting him stay.   

"Did you get me a present?"   

"Of course," Cris replied, poking Dominic in the side, "I'm a fucking fantastic friend."   

"Yeah, yeah," Dominic waved a hand dismissively, "fantastic friend who had us here doing interviews while you had fun at Leeds.  _And_ didn't tell me that you're were dating Irial—"   

Cris shared a disbelieving look with Micah and Benji, "Mate, that was almost three _years_ ago."   

"Or that you even _liked_ boys!"   

Micah rolled his eyes, "He doesn't like _boys_.  That's pedopholic."   

Benji snickered, and Cris shook his head and groaned, "Let it _go_ , Nic."   

"No, I will not let it go!"   

Cris cracked an eye open and stared at Dominic flatly for a minute before shaking his head and waving a hand dismissively, "Drama queen."   

"So..." Benji said pointed, "Leeds."   

"So..." Micah added, "Yellowstone.  I feel like there's been no time to ask you about these adventures in between interviews and photoshoots and your fake PR dates that you spend fending off a slutty celebrity psycho and text/Tweeting/snapchatting Irial despite the _eight hour_ time difference."   

"What's to know?"  Dominic intoned playfully, "He had _loads_ of sex, listened to music that only a special few people enjoy, and got a tattoo of the date our album came out on the other side of his collarbone, which, why is that?"   

"And got those God-awful Ray Bans," Benji teased.   

"And that rather nice ring he won't take off his middle finger no matter how much Miranda begs you," Micah laughed.  "Metaphorically flipping off management?"   

Cris pursed his lips, "Um...not exactly."   

He wondered how upset they'd be when they learned that he'd neglected to tell them something else.  Cris had wanted to, but he kept waiting for their to be time to tell them, time that wasn't being interrupted by award shows, interviews, photoshoots, and...well...PR dates with a paparazzi princess who genuinely seemed to be lacking in general decorum and the idea of personal space, because they were not actually dating...and Irial might actually fly to LA to rip her extensions out if she tried anything else.

**Cris** : Dominic's gonna kill me.

Dominic whined, "Cris."

**Iri** : What did you do Crispin?   

"Mate, we're trying to have a conversation," Micah rebuked.  "Tell your love slave to take a rain-check."

**Cris** : ...forgot to tell him we got engaged?

**Iri** : Oh is that all?  I thought it was something serious...

**Iri** : XD it's been nice knowing you <3

**Cris** : Wow, someone's not getting head when I get home

**Iri** : And what I actually meant was good luck with that :)

**Cris** : :*   

Cris's mobile was ripped from his hands, and he pursed his lips and stared up at Dominic with narrowed eyes.  He simply smiled and tossed the phone to Benji who set it on the side table and smiled innocently at Cris.  Raising an eyebrow, Cris looked over at Micah who rolled his eyes and pressed, "The new tattoo?"   

"Which one?" Cris asked confused.  Then flinched when everyone's eyes narrowed.   

He hadn't told them _that_ either.   

"You mean there's _more_ than just the new date?" Benji questioned.   

"You make it sound like the rest of you don't have tattoos."   

"The rest of us share with the class.  _That's_ what friends do," Micah explained patiently.   

Cris sighed and rolled up his sleeve to show them the moon tattoo he'd gotten, which seemed innocuous enough...except that the moon was very obviously wearing Irial's flamboyant bright orange Beats headphones that Cris had bought him as gag gift.  It probably wasn't any better that Irial had gotten yet another matching one of a sun with Cris's new and favorite "horrendous Hipster retro" sunglasses.   

The boys stared it in silence for a minute before Benji commented, " _This_ is why management hates you."   

"It's not like anyone will know!"  Cris argued.   

They all stared at him dubiously...they had a point.  Dominic held up a finger and clicked on his phone, typing something into his mobile while Cris raised an eyebrow.  He smiled victoriously and showed the screen to Cris; it was a Google Images search for 'Dorian Speaks' that had...numerous pictures of Irial in studio, leaving the studio, arriving at the studio, with guests at the studio, and more often than not wearing his hideous headphones...yeah.   

Micah hazarded, "Is this another of your yin/yang hang-up?  Does Irial have a sort-of, kind-of matching one of these?"   

"Maybe," Cris said slowly.  "Does it matter?  We were drunk.  It was Leeds.  The guy camping out next to us was a tattoo artist with his tattoo gun, and we were both high off the fact that neither of us were out with our PR significant others."   

Dominic and Benji shared a look while Benji snorted, "You were high on _something_."    

Cris shot him a dry look, and Benji shrugged, untroubled.   

Holding up a hand and shaking his head, Micah pressed, "Let's drop the tattoo thing and what a terrible, terrible friend Cris is and focus on why he got our album's release date tattooed on his collarbone.  I mean, I know it's great and everything, mate, but it's not _that_ serious."   

"Well..." Cris began slowly, and his mobile buzzed with an incoming Tweet.  He reached for it, not getting far as Dominic smacked his hand and settled more firmly onto Cris's stomach, and Benji smirked at him, opening it up and reading.   

"Want to explain?"  Benji raised an eyebrow and showed Cris the Tweet.

**Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
Prayers for @Cris_Emerson...he's going to need them XD   

Cris scowled.  His boyfriend—fiancé—was terrible, really.  He laughed nervously, "Well, I am supposedly shagging Davina Allard right now; I'd pray for me too."   

Micah snorted, and Dominic hid a smile while Benji just shook his head, "That's why we ordered pizza for our not-quite-dirty little secret.  That's _not_ why your boyfriend just told the whole world we're going to kill you."   

"What _exactly_ does he know that we don't?"   

Eyes wide, Micah's gaze cut to Cris who just busted out laughing, Micah following not a second later; Benji grimaced and shook his head, "I don't think we want to know all that."   

Dominic rolled his eyes and slapped Cris's head, "Get your mind out of the gutter."   

"It's _IrialandCrispin_ ," Micah drawled.   

"When it comes to them, I assume everything's an innuendo until proven otherwise.  I have _seen_ his Tumblr and Instagram, and I have seen Cris naked enough times to know that not _all_ of those pictures are just reblogged porno screenshots."   

Choking, Dominic looked over at Cris who just smirked and shrugged, "Wait?  Those are Cris and Irial?  Oh my fucking God, I'm scarred."   

"Why the hell were you on Irial's Tumblr anyway?" Cris pointed out, because Irial wasn't nearly as big for Irial as Twitter and Instagram.  It had basically turned into Cris's second Tumblr page where he could write posts and uploaded pictures of him and Irial as long as you couldn't see their faces.  It had gotten more challenging to take shots that could be put up the more tattoos they got, but Cris was up to the challenge and Irial didn't mind shots of his mouth wrapped around Cris's cock being publicized.   

"Focus, Crispin," Micah order.   

Cris scowled and flicked Micah's shin, "Don't call me Crispin."   

"Irial would flip," Dominic snickered.   

So, like the mature adult Cris was, he shoved Dominic off his stomach and tumbling to the floor, sitting up and looking down at his mussed, disgruntled friend, "Oops."   

"Be nice to Crissy," Benji said sweetly.  "Or he'll tell Iri, and Iri will tell Bev, and you'll be sexually frustrated for the next ten years."   

Dominic scowled, and Micah smacked Benji and glares at Dominic who settled cross-legged on the end of the bed beside Cris.  Cris gave Dominic a sidelong glance, "And Bev thinks you're mature."  Dominic, totally proving Cris wrong, stuck his tongue out, and Micah leaned forward, cuffing both of them in the head.  Sighing, Cris smiled apologetically at Micah before biting his lip, "I mean, our album coming out was fantastic, right?  But, I really could have cared less."   

"You whore," Dominic gasped.   

Benji rolled his eyes, "Since you wrote most of it, I'm going to assume whatever happened in Yellowstone was pretty life-changing."   

"I think that depends if you consider getting engaged to be married 'life-changing'," Cris said resolutely.   

Absolute, dead silence that had Crispin cringing into himself, playing with the ring he'd relegated to wearing on his left middle finger until further notice; it had quickly become a nervous habit.   

"Holy fuck!"   

"Tell me I did not call Irial at eight o'clock in the morning after the Teen Choice Awards to say 'congrats on being a web and social networking sensation' when I should have been congratulating him on pulling his head out of his arse and getting engaged," Micah drawled slowly, threateningly, warningly.   

Cris grinned innocently, and Benji threw the hotel pen at Cris's head, smirking when it glanced off his cheek; Cris narrowed his eyes on his friend, "He said yes?"   

Benji sounded awed and shell-shocked and...wait, _what_?   

"No," Cris said slowly; they frowned.  "It was the day after my birthday.  Irial has this weird thing about not combining important days because its a cop-out.  _I_ said yes.  You seriously thought he wouldn't ever ask me?"   

They ignored his question to stare at each other with raised eyebrows, looks of shock, and mouthing 'oh my god, what the fuck?'  Okay...wow...he wasn't sure whether or not he should be upset by how astounded and startled his friends were by _Irial_ proposing to _him_.  What the fuck?   

"Oh my God!  Is _that_ what's going on with this ring?"  Dominic demanded, "Let me see!"  He grabbed for Cris's hand, and Cris smacked his grabbing hands automatically, looking at him like he'd grown two heads.   

"I can't believe—" Benji begin, shaking his head while a huge smile grew over his face.   

"Let me _see_ ," Dominic whined.   

Cris rolled his eyes and offered Dominic his hand, shaking his head and smirking when Dominic grasped it, peering at the ring and preening like the frightening little shipper he was (Irial had presented him with a Captain Crisial tee-shirt for his 22nd birthday, and he wore it in private _way_ too proudly).  Micah reached across Benji, lunging for Cris's mobile, "Give it to me!  I'm calling that twat!  How dare he just _propose_ to _our_ baby and not fucking tell us!"  Benji gaped and looked from Micah to Cris, holding the mobile away from Micah.   

Dominic frowned and looked up at Micah questioningly, "Call him from your mobile."   

"He won't answer, that prick!"   

Cris snickered; he was probably right about that.  Unless Irial completely crashed, he almost always answered Cris's texts, Tweets, and Snapchats...and _never_ answered anybody else's.  There was a knock on the door, and Dominic whined.  Micah waved his hand at Dominic while Benji leaned forward to grab Cris's hand and smirk at him, "You realize this is an £600 ring from Tiffany and Company?"   

"Do I _want_ to know how _you_ know that?" Cris demanded.   

More pounding on the door.   

Micah threw a pillow at Dominic's head, "Pizza, Nic!"   

"He bought it in Australia."   

"Are you _kidding_ me?"  Dominic demanded, stopping and whirled around.   

"Pizza!" The three of them yelled to him, and he groaned in annoyance, marching to the door for the pizza.   

"Here's what's gonna happen," Micah said as Dominic payed for the pizza, smiling cheerfully at the pizza delivery guy and giving him an overly generous tip.  Cris raised his eyebrows but smiled and nodded, "we're going to eat pizza, gush like little girls about the details of your proposal and engagement and what your plans are, Skype with Irial so I can yell at him, and then sneak you back out at four in the morning so management can pretend you shagged Davina Allard.  And in the meantime, fucking let me see your £600 Tiffany engagement ring that resembles yours and Irial's matching tattoos because he pretends he's not a romantic sap but actually _is_."   

Cris laughed and complied.


	45. "Riot" Cher Lloyd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dissident pushes Irial too far. Angus spills the beans. And Irial totally usurps their interrogation...I mean interview.

To: irialdorian@gmail.com.uk  
From: crossesoflead@gmail.com.uk  
Subject: Your dickwad ex boyfriend  
This is really hard on both of us, but let that punk ass little bitch and Harry and Daniel and Rose and Ashton and whoever the fuck else become necessary know that if slag does body shots off you one more time then licks you like he has any fucking right to I'll quit all of this bullshit.  It's bad enough they got my family involved.  It's bad enough I've spent the past couple weeks getting little to no sleep because I'm sneaking in and out of a hotel so people think I'm shagging some size-two manufactured wannabe model twink.  It's bad enough all I see are pictures of you and that prick snogging and drinking and clubbing and hanging all over each other because you're a handsy drunk.  It's bad enough that I have to watch my words so I don't slip and somehow elude to the fact that we're still living together.  Only the grace of God has kept anyone from asking me anymore question about you and that arse specifically.  I would go absolutely mental.  I will go absolutely mental if Brandon touches you like that one more time despite alcohol, despite PR, I don't care anymore, Irial, I just don't.  
I'll see you tomorrow.  
  
 **Regina (@B4_Girl)**  
@breakingfourth apocalypse in like 4 hrs!!!!!! #I'mSoExcited #ItllBeAwesome  
  
 **10-22-16 (@maria_sanjuan)**  
Braving 4hr time different to see @breakingfourth livestream  
  
 **The Best Part Peach (@peachykeen261)**  
Lol 10 hr time diff in Adelaide! Heard rumors @DorianII is going to host part #FingersCrossed #MakeItSo #HopeItsTrue #CrisialLive  
  
 **Text message from Irial to Harry**  
 **Irial** : Harry, best mate, ex-flatmate, general sweetheart, I hope there will be no surprises today  
 **Harry** : Why?  
 **Irial** : Crispin's already on edge about mine and Brandon's infamous PR stunt. Idk how much more of this he can take  
 **Harry** : I cant make any promises since Dissident never listens to me, but youve got that clause...  
 **Irial** : Exactly, I just hope they remember that because I won't hold back on walking  
 **Harry** : ._. I know

* * *

Ever since he'd sent that text message at ten o'clock this morning to Harry, Irial had known that today would be a problem child...depending on how you looked at it.   

In either case, Irial had kept his mouth shut and aiming for a peaceful morning...or as peaceful as it got in his and Crispin's house, which meant that Marius had woken them up at the crack of dawn barking at the new Bengal kitten they'd acquired the second day Crispin had been home when they'd found the tiny, spotted feline mewling in a cardboard box off the side of the road.  There'd been a round of sex before they'd both peeled themselves out of bed and thrown on whatever the hell their hands touched first to walk their overly enthusiastic dog around the block before it was back to the house for a shower (and more sex), then a Crispin prepared breakfast outside with Crispin's feet thrown across Irial's lap while Marius sat beside Crispin waiting for him to "accidentally" drop some bacon.  Irial pretended he didn't notice the little game they were playing.  He'd still been half-naked, wearing only a pair of Crispin's low-hanging, oversized pajama bottoms when he'd kissed his boyfriend—holy fucking crap, fiancé—goodbye at the door before racing upstairs to get dressed and get to the exact same place Crispin had just left for.   

Like, fuck, the things he did for surprises.   

By the time Cheryl picked him up not ten minutes after Crispin had left, Irial had managed to change into his favorite split-leg plaid and black jeans, a Breaking Fourth t-shirt (that he'd actually rush ordered when Crispin had been out of town for this exact occasion because he was _that_ excellent of a boyfriend), and one of Crispin's flowy black button-ups, and the ominous feeling of something wicked that way coming had settled in the very pit of Irial's stomach firmly with no intention of going _anywhere_.  Cheryl had eyed him curiously, but hadn't bothered to ask what the hell his problem was either because she was used to his level of supreme weirdness or because she'd rather just be surprised.   

"Holy...what the fuck are you _wearing_?"  Miranda, the boys' stylist, greeted Irial when she spotted him for the first time backstage.   

Irial grinned and pulled her in for a hug, "Breaking Fourth's faces!"   

Miranda clucked her tongue at him, "Cheeky, you are.  Does your boyfriend know you're here yet?"   

"He didn't know I would be here at all.  His _face_ when he gets surprised," Irial gushed.   

"Is preferably not something Dissident wants the world to see," Harry announced as he walked into the room, giving Cheryl a one-armed hug as Deirdre helped with her makeup.  "He looks at you like he wants to cry with this big-ass smile on his face and this glint in his eye like he wants to snog the shit out of you."   

Pursing his lips, Irial studied Harry for a moment before promptly asking, "And this is a bad thing?"   

"Irial!" Someone called in a thick Scottish accent.   

His mouth dropped open as he whirled around and grinned, "Angus!"   

And then he was running and leaping into Angus's arms like in some dramatic movie; Angus caught him easily, laughing and ruffling his hair while Miranda made a noise of protest behind them.  Angus and Irial had gotten close when Irial had ended up on tour with the boys mostly because his raucous sense of humor kept Angus entertained even as his antics kept the Scottish man very, very busy keeping an eye on him for his anxious boyfriend.   

"You have some explaining to do," Angus said gruffly as he dropped Irial back on his feet.   

"Me?"  Irial gasped dramatically while Miranda tossed Angus an annoyed look and went into fixing Irial's mess of a hair.   

"You," Angus agreed.  Harry looked amused, shaking his head and sitting down in a chair to watch the while exchange with a half-smile on his lips...didn't that ass have work to be doing?Irial tossed Angus an innocent expression, but the bigger man just blinked at him, completely unimpressed; Irial sighed, deflating and waving his hand for Angus to go on.  "You proposed to Crispin and didn't tell me?"   

"Wait, he _what_?"  Harry gasped, glaring at Irial.   

Miranda yanked on his hair, and Irial squawked indignantly, looking back into the hair stylist's stormy face, "You did _what_?"   

"You're a piece of shit, Iri!"  Even Cheryl tossed from halfway across the room.   

"How does everybody know this?"  Irial asked, shrinking into his seat.   

Angus gave him a droll look, "Cris walks around like he's on a cloud and smiling like the sun.  He's got a ring on his middle finger left hand that he never takes off.  You two go out of town for his birthday, and he comes back with a ring, new date tattoo, and an unearthly amount of joy.  I'm a _security_ guard."  Irial raised an eyebrow at Angus, unconvinced by his explanation; Angus shrugged and smirked, "I'm a security guard; I overheard the boys."   

"Of _course_ you did," Irial shook his head.  "Do you know that they Skyped me in the middle of the day so that Micah could yell at me for not telling him?  I'm sorry when did I need everyone's permission to ask Crispin to marry me.  I thought there were only two people in this relationship not including management and our PR significant others."   

Miranda cuffed him on the side of the head, "We're your _friends_.  We want to know these things.  Screw privacy."   

"I can't believe you actually got off your arse and asked him," Cheryl said, walking over to stand beside Irial.  "Finally grew some balls, did you?"   

"Grew balls in December, more like," Harry muttered, shaking his head.  "Rosie and I thought you were going to back out."   

"Hey!"  Irial declared indignantly.   

Harry shrugged, "You had the ring almost eight months with no sign you were going to propose."   

"Little Crissy's going to be getting married!"  Miranda preened, "When?  Where?  Am I invited?  Better yet, can I do your hair for the ceremony?  And Cris's, _definitely_ Cris's at the very least.  He's a hot mess with that mane, he is."   

"I feel like there's probably a better time to have this conversation," Irial said pointedly.   

Angus and Miranda scoffed, "Are you actually going to have it with us?"   

Irial sighed, "I guess I deserved that.  Can we all just do lunch sometime?  I can show Miranda the house and our adorable Bengal kitten who currently lacks a name at this time."   

"Fine," Angus grumbled, "but this week, don't forget."   

"Yeah, yeah," Irial rolled his eyes, "and bring your families.  I'll invite the boys and my best mates who are surely going to kill me—"   

"Yes we are," Cheryl and Harry said with smiles.   

" _Anyway_ ," Irial threw both of them cautionary looks, ducking out of the way of Miranda's hands and throwing an arm around Angus, "speaking of the boys, how are they this fine Sunday morning?"   

Angus smirked, "Fielding the first of many interviews."   

"Already?"  Irial scoffed and shook his head, "We're barely an hour into this debacle, and they're already being fed to the sharks, harsh."   

Snorting, Angus shook his head, "It's Derek Havershim."   

Pursing his lips, Irial cocked his head, "That...could go either way, he's half-fruitcake, half-pitbull."   

"You want to watch?" Angus inquired, a mischievous glint to his eyes that matched the smile that grew across Irial's lips at that suggestion.   

"Don't get caught!" Harry called warningly.   

" _Such_ a joy-kill," Irial intoned to Angus who snickered and lead Irial down the hall from the dressing rooms to the studio that lacked a 'wings' or 'backstage' and just looked like on big room divided into three sections: the colorful, artfully done 'stage' where the boys were, the seats that had been setup for the studio audience, and the section full of management, most of the PR department, hair and makeup, and the actual crew, which was where Irial and Angus were standing.  Irial pulled out his mobile and snapped at picture of the boys, grinning wolfishly at Angus who only rolled his eyes as he posted the image to Twitter and Instagram.

**Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
So...the rumors might have been true...XD @Cris_Emerson @breakingfourth #B4Apocalypse   

It wasn't even a minute later that the @ mentions of excitement and disbelief began pouring in, but he frowned and clicked on one that had a picture of him, biting his lip and smiling as he took a picture of the set, Angus beside him.

**Lucy Lou (@LucyGrey)**  
@DorianII guess where I am, bro?   

Irial turned to look at the audience, gaping when he saw not only his sister, Lucy, but also Catherine, Eleanor, his mother, and Lucy's best friend, Mary sitting in the audience with Ariella and Crispin's mother.  He shook his head; apparently Irial wasn't the only one who had a thing for surprises.  Irial followed his sister on Twitter before stuffing the mobile back in his pocket and tuning in for the rest of his boyfriend's interview.   

"Dominic plays the worst pranks, definitely, but he's so giggly about them that we can always tell when they're coming and how bad they're gonna be," Crispin told Derek, shrugging.  "The worst prank he ever did to _me_ though was putting up my Leeds tickets for auction on ebay.  I was pissed, and Micah made him buy them back at some exorbitant price."   

"I hope it was worth it!" Dominic shouted at Crispin, arms crossed over his chest, pouting.   

"Your first Leeds concert, wasn't it?" Derek inquired.   

Crispin grinned a blush spreading across his cheeks while Angus elbowed Irial, raising his eyebrows.  Irial smiled thinly; _Crispin_ , honestly, the pokerface needed more work than a celebrity cresting into middle age.  The man asked a question about _Leeds Festival_ , and, of course, what Crispin's dirty mind latched onto was what the pair of them had gotten up to after hours.  Irial shook his head while Angus laughed.   

"Um...yeah, we've never been in town during all the years my mum considered me old enough to attend."   

"We weren't this year either!" Dominic tossed, "He _ditched_ us."   

"You didn't even want to go!  I asked you like _four_ years ago!" Crispin snapped at Dominic playfully, and Dominic stuck his tongue out at Crispin.   

"Your mum, huh?  Momma's boy?"   

"Yes," Irial whispered at the same time the boys shouted it, devolving into giggles.   

Crispin blushed, "A bit."   

"What does your mother think of you and Ms. Davina Allard?  Even _my_ mum has an opinion on _that_ ," Derek asked.   

Blinking in surprise, Crispin floundered for a minute, unsure how to answer; Irial tensed and someone cursed from his other side.  Irial turned to see Harry brush passed him murmuring about, "Morons, he can't lie for _shit_."  Harry broke through the crowd of crew, and Crispin forced a smile and shot him a desperate look while Harry signed for Derek to cut it out and move on.  Derek laughed, and Crispin seemed to deflate in relief.   

Derek had a much better recovery than Dissident tended to, "Quite alright, mate, I'm sure you'd rather your mum not know what you and Davina get up to."  Unimpressed, Crispin quirked an eyebrow, and Irial glared daggers at Derek, _really_?  "Why this year for Leeds?  Was it the bands?"   

"The tickets were a birthday present from my best mate, but, yeah, one of our—" Crispin winced slightly, glancing over at Harry, Daniel, and Ashton, "— _my_ favorite bands was playing there this year."   

"Your best mate?  Do you mean the illustrious Irial Dorian perchance?"   

Irial stiffened; he could feel it in his bones that he wasn't going to like where this was headed.   

Crispin nodded slowly, glancing off towards his management before turning his attention back to Derek, "Yeah, we camped out together.  It was disgusting, but, apparently, a whole part of the festival experience."   

"Irial Dorian," Derek mused thoughtfully, "I quite enjoy his show and his Twitter."   

"Lots of people do," Crispin hedged carefully.   

"Quite mysterious, though, isn't he?  First with the name, now with the boyfriend's identity; I've been hearing rumors about you, Crispin," Derek niggled.   

"Hell no," Irial said, and Angus gripped his arm.  Further ahead, Irial saw Harry's whole body grow taut, shooting Daniel and Ashton a furious look.   

" _That_ sentiment never bodes well," Crispin remarked flatly.   

"You don't like your best mate's boyfriend?"   

"I _never_ said that," Crispin twisted his ring, and Irial gritted his teeth and shook his head, irate.  He'd noticed Crispin's nervous habit almost as soon as it had manifested, and fuck if he was going to let this bullshit continue.  Irial shook off Angus's restraining hand and walked through until he reached the Crispin's lucky-to-still-be-alive management, "I've said that I don't want to talk about the pair of them, and I didn't then, don't now."   

"Crispin, cut it—" Ashton began to whisper into his mic, Crispin grimacing on stage, when Irial stepped into Ashton's field of vision, cutting him off.   

"You know what the definition of insanity is?"  Irial asked demurely.   

Harry gaped, looking between them before letting it go, "Doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting different results?"   

"Dissident Management," Irial nodded.  "Your picture, _right_ there in the dictionary; you're an idiot.  How many times are you going to bring this up?  How many times are you not going to listen to Harry and then get pissy when shit comes back to bite you in the arse like this is about to."   

Daniel tried to interject, "No one believes—"   

"You're full of shit," Harry and Irial cut him off at the same time, annoyed and flatly respectively.   

"Maybe no one believes Crispin and _Davina_ , because what the fuck planet are you from?  He likes her well enough, but she has a sleazy boyfriend in a motorcycle gang, and she's hardly Crispin's type as far as females go.  But _everybody_ believes Brandon and I are shagging or they're living on planet wishful thinking, which good for them.  My mum and dad called to ask me when I broke up with Crispin to get back together with "that homophobic twat."  So don't stand here and try to bullshit me that nobody believes this.  All you ever do when you pull dumbass stunts like this is muddy the water and make things harder to believe, and you two are so keen on shoving contracts down people's throats.  Sit back and enjoy watching me do the same thing to you."  Ashton and Daniel went to argue while Irial just shook his head, "You morons thought it was so necessary to make Crispin seem straight that you breached your contract with me.  _This_ charade is over."   

"Which sounds to me that either you don't like _him_ or you don't like them _together_ ," Derek prompted.  Crispin was silent, and Irial pushed passed Breaking Fourth's management, hopping on stage and ruffling Dominic's hair as he passed him.  Benji hid a smile behind his hand, and Micah just raised his eyebrows, tension draining.  "That it then?  Jealous your best mate is spending so much time with—?"   

"Are we talking about _me_?"  Irial interjected, and Crispin looked up brusquely, a bright, ecstatic, 'I can't believe your here, life's now complete' smile that lit his whole being spreading across his face; Harry might have had a point about management never wanting people to see him look at Irial like that, but Irial was so pissed at them and so endeared by that smile that he really couldn't bring himself to care as he plopped down beside Crispin.   

"Mate, what are you _wearing_?"  Crispin asked, appalled and pawing at Irial's shirt.   

Irial quirked an eyebrow at Crispin before realizing what he was talking about and getting to his feet, to show Crispin his shirt, "Your _face_!"   

"I know," Crispin intoned, "that's the problem."   

Patting his head, Irial sat back down beside him, close enough to feel the heat coming off his skin but not so close that Dissident would nail both of their asses to the wall, "Don't be ridiculous.  The _problem_ is that you invited my sisters to this little event but was perfectly fine letting me watch it on my laptop at home.  What kind of a best friend are you?"   

"I figured you'd find a way to sneak in; I was right wasn't I?"   

"Actually, I was invited," Irial stuck his tongue out at Crispin.   

Crispin caught his tongue and raised his eyebrows at Irial, "Is this a My Little Pony stud?"   

Smacking his hand away, Irial scowled at Crispin, "Shut up, I can be a Brony.  Now, back to the point, why am I being brought up during your interrogation?"   

"Interview," Benji corrected lightly.   

Irial pursed his lips and slanted a look at Benji before narrowing his eyes on Derek, "No, no, I think my word choice was correct.  Hello Derek Havershim."   

Derek grinned, "Hello Irial Dorian."   

"You know that's not _actually_ my name.  It's a stage name like 'Rhianna' or 'Lil' Wayne' or 'Beyonce'."   

"That's her _actual_ name, elf," Crispin snickered.   

"Shut up, no it's not.  Next you'll be telling me Drake's real name is 'Drake.'"  Crispin pursed his lips and bit back a smile, nodding; Irial offered him a slight smile, resisting the urge to lean over and peck Crispin on the cheek for being so damn adorable on a live streaming video.  Arsehole, seriously.  Irial rolled his eyes and tugged on the end of Crispin's hair, looking to Derek.   

"I was asking him about his feelings towards your boyfriend, if he was jealous you two were spending so much time together in public now," Derek reiterated for Irial.   

Irial feigned confusion, looking to Crispin, "My boyfriend?  Have we been spending time together in public?"   

Crispin looked uncomfortable, looking over at Micah who answered, "Brandon, then."   

"Ah," Irial nodded his head.  "Crispin's not a fan.  And Brandon's not my boyfriend.  He's an old friend that I might be a _tad_ bit _too_ comfortable with; it's alright, whatever, apparently body shots crossed the line so my boyfriend also hates him with a fiery passion of like a thousand burning suns or what have you.  So he's going home now, like I'd jeopardize either mine and Crispin's friendship or my relationship with my boyfriend over an old friend."   

"Really?"  Crispin asked, shocked.   

Irial smiled at him softly and tugged the end of his hair again, gently, " _Really_ , princess."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was totally inspired by 1D Day. I didn't really watch it, only parts of it because my best friend absolutely insisted. Some parts of it were bang my head against the wall boring and other parts were pretty interesting. Anyway, if you're a Larry shipper, there are some pretty solid Larry moments in that as well as a Narry moment that really ought to make anyone question Harry Styles's sexuality.


	46. "Better In Stereo" Dove Cameron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cris has a passionate hatred for Brandon. Cris is like a really good person. And they have dinner with everyone they know and then some.

**Tumblr Post: crisialisreal_getoverit**  
 **Crisial Moments during the b4 Apocalypse**  
I watched and re-watched that livestream several times (because Dorian crashed it like halfway through the first hour and didn't really ever leave again) and have a list of all the Crisial moments I noticed  
-Irial saving Cris from questions about him and this Brandon guy then denying they have a relationship (Cris made heart eyes at him the whole time, I swear, the fucking feels)  
-The boys freaking out when asked the most uncomfortable thing that happened on tour (Cris blushed and couldn't talk & Irial just smirked)  
-When they sang '365' Cris eye-flirted with Irial the whole time  
-Nic and Micah interviewed interviewers and asked Irial if he'd ever shagged his friends he said yes and when some girl from the audience made a comment about Crisial Irial just shrugged and said 'I wouldn't put it past me'  
-Irial and Cris were completely MIA anytime the other boys were doing stuff, but Irial sat in the audience with his family and Cris's (who Cris invited to surprise Irial) whenever Cris was up  
-During Dominic and Cris's dance contest, Cris and Irial danced and sang to 'Dance With Me' by Olly Murs (the cuteness, i can't even)  
-When they sang 'The Best Part' Cris sang to Irial and Harry took him away halfway through because you could see him crying in the background  
-Cris and Benji had a drinking contest, and Cris won (by a landslide); Benji said it wasn't fair because he didn't know Cris had no gag reflex and Irial laughed and said 'practice makes perfect' (Cris blushed but laughed)  
-Cris slipped up when talking to Micah and admitted he and Irial still live "in each other's pockets" so Irial came on stage and slapped him in the back of the head  
-Irial introduced Cherrie Taylor as Micah's girlfriend (aw) and Cherrie introduced him as Dominic's and they kissed (and if looks could kill...seriously)  
-Cris got _really_ comfortable in Irial's personal space their weird game of extreme Twister  
-Cris told Irial no he couldn't get another dog so Irial dropped to his knees to beg, and Cris stopped breathing and almost sprang a boner right there  
-Irial talked about Yellowstone and Cris kept adding things like he'd been there when he'd supposedly still been in London where Davina Allard was spending time with family  
-Breaking Fourth sang Lighthouse as their final song, and Irial hid his face in Cris's back while they were singing it and Cris just freaking grinned that arse  
They need to come out. I'm done  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
Holy fuck, everyone I know is at my house #whatislife #sendthemhome #invasionoftheinlaws lol  
  
 **Lucy Lou (@LucyGrey)**  
I'm meeting @breakingfourth today. @DorianII coolest brother ever #ISwear  
  
 **Ariella Emerson (@Ariell_Em106)**  
@holdtheirish my brother thinks he's a grill master #wtf #ThisIsntDangerousAtAll  
  
 **Irish Rose (@rosieposie)**  
@DorianII in-laws...lmao not a funny joke dude #IAlmostHadAHeartAttack #thisbarbecuetho  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
Learning to barbecue is harder than it looks...  
  
 **Holden Ireland (@holdtheirish)**  
@rosiepose @HaroldBSterling @DorianII someone stop him please #OMGWEREGONNADIE #OrHaveNoFood  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
Meanwhile I'm just over here like smh he's gonna burn the house down.

* * *

"I think I've got it!"   

"He's gonna burn the house down."   

"Thank you for the vote of confidence, babe," Cris snapped sarcastically at his boyfriend who simply shrugged.   

Rosie shouldered him out of the way, "Move it, Brit, before you burn every piece of meat stored in your damn house.  I want to eat sometime today."   

"And something that _isn't_ charred black!" Holden called.   

Cris glowered at the younger boy who shrugged, and Irial started clapping slowly for Rosie, "Bravo," he smirked at Cris, "let the Yankee to her work.  They were perfecting this while us Brits were busy pursuing nobler and more civilized pastimes."   

Rosie snorted, "Like colonizing Africa and cricket?"   

"Exactly," Irial remarked, grinning and wrapping his arms around Cris's waist.  "You gave it your best shot, love, but don't quit your day job."   

"I thought you'd support me in whatever I do, Iri," Cris pouted.   

Irial laughed and stood on his toes to press a light kiss to Cris's lips, "Except barbecue, love, I'm amending that now."   

Cris grinned and shook his head, pressing his lips back to Irial's, both of them startling at the mechanical click of a camera shutter; Miranda grinned at them, preening, "You boys are so cute, I swear."   

"Hello, Mira," Cris and Irial intoned, sharing a long, indulgent glance.   

"Quick question, though, Irial," Miranda said, leaning in to whisper, "is your PR boytoy _supposed_ to be here?  And is he secretly straight?  Bi?  Can I take a crack at him?"   

Cris stiffened and shot a look to Irial who rubbed soothing circles into the small of Cris's back while laughing at Miranda, "No, no, he's a rainbow-loving, black triangle wearing, dick-riding, full-fledged homosexual, darling."   

Miranda pouted, and Cris huffed, "You're _married_."   

"Only a joke, Crissy, no need to be so touchy," Miranda snapped before taking in the patient, too-blase look on Irial's face and the pissed off one on Cris's.  She whistled and turned, looking around, "Oh, Deirdre, let's have a chat about...Breaking Bad!"  And she scurried away like a mouse that just woke the cat...and the dog...and the household inhabitants in possession of various mouse traps and poison.   

"You think she realizes that show ended four years ago?"  Irial intoned.   

Cris crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Irial who sighed and looped his arms around Cris's neck, burying his face into the soft cashmere jumper he had on.  It took everything in Cris not to react; he was _pissed_.  Irial whined, "Crispin."   

"No, Iri, what's he doing here?"  Cris demanded, tone icy.   

Irial sighed and looked up at Cris with a sheepish expression; Cris sighed, anger abating, and he wrapped his arms around Irial's waist, holding him closely, bodies aligned.  He smiled slightly, "I wanted you to meet him."   

"I don't—" Cris began, bristling.   

"Crispin," Irial cut him off, tone steely; Crispin stiffened, teeth clenched and raised an eyebrow at his boyfriend.  Sighing, Irial shook his head and carded his fingers through Cris's hair, "I know he was an arsehole at one time.  And I know that he's my ex.  And I know you want nothing to do with him since he spent the last like four months snogging me in bars and pretending to be half as important to me as you are—"   

"He _licked_ your body, Irial," Cris said slowly, trying to keep his breathing even because...honestly what the fuck was wrong with his boyfriend.   

"I know!  And he's sorry!"   

"He's _sorry_ ," Cris reiterated blankly.   

"Try to follow, Crispin," Irial snapped, and Cris sighed and rested his head on Irial's shoulder while Irial's fingers massaged the back of his neck.  "He's having a bit of a hard time right now."   

"And that's my problem?"   

"Of course not," Irial said softly, gently, "but he needs people in his life that can help him."   

"And you're a fucking bleeding heart," Cris said, the harsh words negated by how soft and defeated his tone was.   

Irial sighed and kissed the base of Cris's neck, whispering, "You don't have to like him, you don't have to be friends with him, but I do want you to meet him.  People change, and he's not a bad person, but he does need to be surrounded and inundated with people who can help him change, not fall back into old habits."   

Cris sighed and leaned his forehead against Irial's meeting his boyfriend's soft, gray-eyed gaze, "And I don't suppose you'll tell me what that means."   

Smiling slightly, Irial shook his head, "Nope, that's his story to tell, not mine."   

Rolling his eyes, Cris kissed Irial deeply, smiling when his boyfriend's lips parted under his and pulling away when they both remembered oxygen was a necessary evil; Irial shook his head at Cris, grabbing his hand and towing him over towards Brandon while looking over his shoulder and saying, "Don't think I don't notice your caveman behavior.  I already have a lovebite the size of Russia on my neck and you have a ring on your finger Beyonce, you don't have to snog me to prove a point."   

Cris smirked, relaxing a little at that, and Irial smiled smugly, pausing to kiss Cris one more time before tugging him back along towards Brandon.   

Brandon Greer wasn't intimidating, but he also wasn't _not_.  Cris felt slightly better about meeting his fiancé's gorgeous ex-boyfriend who he'd spent the better pat of the last four months snogging publicly with Irial's hand in his and his engagement ring back on its proper finger instead of the one that would raise the least amount of eyebrows.  And Brandon was gorgeous, stunning, irritatingly sexy.  Blue-eyed, blond-haired, average height and a cross between rugged and laid-back and muscled like an Abercrombie model; it annoyed Cris to no end that the man had shown up in a button-up jean shirt, Converse, and a pair of blue jeans yet still managed to easily be one of the most attractive people in the room.  It also annoyed him that he was slugging back beers with Soren who'd already become taken with him if the look of keen interested and open smile on his face was anything to go by.   

"There he is!"  Soren proclaimed when his saw Cris, grinning, "Irial finally convinced you to step away from burning everyone's food and play host, yeah?"   

Shooting his best friend a poisonous look, Cris forced a smile while Irial hid his smile by taking the drink Brandon offered him and taking a sip.  He squeezed Cris's hand, and Cris exhaled carefully, trying his hardest not to rise to the desire to strangle his best friend, "Something like that."   

"The Yankees took control," Irial whispered, conspiratorially.   

"Rosie saves the day, then?"  Brandon asked.   

Irial laughed and nodded while Cris just narrowed his eyes on Brandon who glanced at him, quirked an eyebrow, but otherwise didn't acknowledge his hostility; Soren cleared his throat awkwardly, patting Cris's shoulder and mouthing good luck to Irial before splitting with a nod at Brandon.  Irial pursed his lips before shaking his head and rolling back his shoulders, "Crispin, this is Brandon Greer, my old friend who was kind enough to take four months out of his life to play beard for your archaic management's peace of mind so kindly stop killing him with you eyes."  Brandon just looked between them, raising his eyebrows but not commenting.  Good.  None of his fucking business...but Cris tried to relax slightly; Irial took it, "Brandon, this is my overprotective, jealous fiancé, Crispin Emerson, who's not your biggest fan, my apologies."   

Brandon ducked his head and smiled slightly, shrugging, "Can't complain.  I quite recognize that you don't like me, mate, but could you stop with the Cyclops lasers please, it makes me a tad bit uncomfortable.  And if this is about my rather infamous body shot heard around the world, I am sorry about that and really rather uncomfortable, but your management is persistent.  If I'd known your were engaged I would have said no regardless.  I'm a lot of things but not a homewrecker."   

Cris blinked, taken aback by his bluntness and glancing at Irial who just half-shrugged, apparently completely used to Brandon's pronouncements.  It was easy to see just from that one moment how Irial and Brandon got on so well despite their rather tumultuous history; Brandon was just fucking like Irial, which made Cris relax even a little more.  There was no way in hell that Irial could ever have a functional relationship with anyone like himself; Irial gave him a sidelong glance and smiled, wrapping an arm around Cris's waist and pressing a kiss just under his ear, whispering, "Feeling better, yeah?"   

Smiling down at Irial, Cris rolled his eyes and kissed him while Brandon looked at the two of them softly, shaking his head, "Alright, I'm gonna bail before your fiancé tries to make awkward small talk to appease you.  See you around Iri."   

Laughing, Irial looked up at Cris who scowled in response.  Irial pressed a kiss to the corner of Cris's lips and said, "He's fun, yeah?"   

"He's something," Cris replied before saying sulkily, "I still don't like him."   

"I know, princess, that wasn't a requirement, though."   

"Alright bitches—"   

"Rosemary Ireland!"   

"—and my mother who taught me better than to speak to people like that," Rosie backtracked quickly while everyone else who knew her just laughed.  "I'm sure you'll all be happy to know that I saved the food from Cris's hands so feast!  Steak, burgers, and hot dogs, if you want anything else, I don't give a shit—"   

"Rose!"   

"And what I mean is...eat so my mother stops yelling at me!"   

Irial laughed into Cris's and looked up at him, "Are you ready for our announcement?"   

Cris grinned broadly, a warm feeling going through him as he looked down at Irial, "More ready than you are."   

"Very true," Irial retorted.   

Cris laughed and pressed a kiss to his temple, squeezing Irial's hand and pulling him towards the food.  Molly was deep in conversation with Cris's mother, Florence, when they arrived at the line that had emerged around the folding table they'd laid out for the main portion of food.  Aside of the barbecue, everybody who'd shown up had brought something so it had a mix of just about every side dish from a country on the Atlantic with the exception of Spain and Portugal (Ariella and Holden had pulled their collective cooking skills to make crescents, though Cris and Irial still suspected Pillsbury was behind the confections).   

His mum hugged him tightly before grinning broadly at Irial and embracing him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, looping his arm through hers and walking away with him.  Cris shared at confused look with Molly who only shrugged and waved her hand dismissively, kissing Cris's cheek and holding up at finger and yelling, "Ellie!  Max!  Stop playing with the dog and come over her and eat now!"   

They both wrinkled their noses and came running over to their mother; Eleanor grinned at Cris and hugged him around the waist while Max rolled his eyes at his sister, apparently too cool for hugs now, "You're ancient, Ellie, how old are you now, like a hundred?"   

Eleanor socked him in the side, and he coughed at the hit, "I'm fourteen, honestly."   

"Fourteen?  You spend everyday bench pressing at the gym?"   

Molly laughed, "Ellie's playing volleyball."   

"Yeah, Iri was telling me about that.  Didn't tell me you had a deadly arm, though."   

"Please," Ellie scoffed, "like your abs aren't rock hard.  That hit hurt you know."   

"I apologize?"   

"Oi!  Don't apologize to her, princess!  I saw her punch you!"  Irial called out from up ahead where he'd been in discussion with Cris's mum.   

"Shut it, you!"  Eleanor shot back playfully, sticking her tongue out at Irial who just laughed.   

"Someone's becoming butch hanging out with all those volleyball chicks," Rosie snickered.   

Eleanor smiled proudly while Cris just laughed and threw an arm around Max's shoulders, looking down at the boy, "And what about you Max?  You turn fifteen yet?"   

"Two more weeks," Eleanor sing-songed.   

Max rolled his eyes, "Two more weeks."   

"You're such a big boy now Maxwell.  What are you going to do with your life?"  Cris asked.   

Max wrinkled his nose, "Isn't it a bit too soon for this conversation?"   

"Never," Molly and Cris said simultaneously.  Molly glanced over at Cris in surprise before smirking at Max who sighed and rolled his eyes.   

"College, I suppose, as it's compulsory now," Max shook his head.  "But I don't know, really beyond that."   

"I thought you wanted to go to uni in Australia," Eleanor nudged him.   

Cris grinned, "I think that's brilliant.  Australia's wonderful."   

Molly glared at Cris who balked and held his hands up innocently while Max beamed.  Cris cleared his throat and grabbed a paper plate under Molly's narrowed-eyed gaze, grabbing a steak before helping himself to some of the sides; he smiled at her nervously, "Lucy just turned eighteen, yeah?  She have any idea where she's going to university yet?"   

"Well, not Australia thankfully," Molly said tartly.   

Cris hesitated, glancing down at the empty bowl of macaroni and cheese before looking back up and spotting Irial, "Elf!"  Irial turned around before sitting down, quirking an eyebrow at Cris, "You got me macaroni, yeah?"   

"No," Irial said sarcastically, "I've just got this _whole plate_ just for myself."   

Beaming, Cris shrugged sheepishly, "I love you?"   

Irial rolled his eyes and turned around to sit down beside Rosie while Cris turned back to Molly who simply looked amused.  Marius, apparently bored with trying to bother guests, sidled up to Cris, nosing his leg.  Molly patted his head, "Lucy, bless her, wants to go to Manchester."   

"She get accepted?"   

"Of course," Molly blinked, "Cathy, on the other hand, fancies herself some sort of fairy princess and wants to go cavorting off to America next year."   

Cris grinned, "Really?  Where?"   

"UCLA!" Molly burst out, "Not Harvard or Brown or Yale or somewhere that we could afford if she got in."   

Frowning, Cris put a hand on Molly's arm, "She'll be able to go wherever she wants."   

Molly gaped at him before shaking her head and putting a hand over her mouth, tears welling in her eyes, "Does Irial know you've been putting money away for those girls?"   

"Probably not," Cris admitted, shrugging.  "He left all his account information on the laptop.  And he never looks at them, just deposits.  Whatever, I want to help."   

She shook her head and patted his cheek, smiling at him softly, "You're a sweetheart, you know that?  I'm glad Irial found you, Cris."   

Cris smiled, embarrassed but touched by the admission.   

"Crispin Emerson!" Irial called out, "Stop flirting with my mother and get your arse over here.  This is _your_ announcement, love, and all these beautiful people are waiting for you to give it."   

Pecking Molly on the cheek, Cris nodded and jogged over with his plate, setting it down on the table beside Irial's.  He smiled over at Irial nervously, and Irial just smiled slightly, grabbing his hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it; they waited until everyone had quieted, looking up at them and Molly had taken a seat between her husband and Cris's mum.  Cris glanced over at Irial who nodded and smirked, "Anyway, hello everybody who knows us.  We have an announcement."   

"Are you sure?"  Dominic joked, shaking his head while Beverly cuffed him on the back of the head.   

She was a keeper, that one.   

"Irial, are you pregnant?"  Holden laughed.   

Irial gaped and shook his head, "Why would _I_ be knocked up?  Like Crispin's too manly for that shit."   

"He is," Harry remarked, sniggering, and Rosie devolved into giggles while Rosie's mother, Sophia, bit back her own laughter.   

"Alright," Irial turned to Cris, " _this_ is why we didn't want to do this.  We have _terrible_ family."   

"Boo!"  Ariella shouted, tossing a potato chip at Irial who just gave her a bland look and turned to Cris like 'see what I mean?'   

Cris laughed and kissed Irial's cheek winding an arm around his waist and just skipping the dramatic pretense Irial lived for, "We're engaged."   

Absolute silence.   

He turned to Irial, "See?  Now they're quiet."   

"For now," Irial replied, shaking his head.   

"To be married?"  Sophia balked, looking between them, before shooting a glance towards Molly, "My God Molly, I _never_ thought he'd say yes."   

"Neither did I," Molly replied tearfully.   

"No way, I'm legitimately getting Cris Emerson as a brother-in-law, this is the best day ever," Lucy laughed, feigning passing out on Cathy who rolled his eyes and elbowed his sister in the side.   

Angus laughed while Dexter, Irials' step-father, got up to embrace Irial tightly, "I'm so glad you got over that marriage-phobia you had and said yes.  I don't think you'll ever find better."   

"Oh my God," Irial balked, turning to Cris, "did no one think I'd ever ask _you_.  What did I say?  Terrible family."   

And more silence.  Cris bit his lip, grinned and nodded.   

"Oh my fucking God," Rosie blurted, "you _finally_ did it and didn't tell me?"   

"How long have you been engaged, Crispin?"  His mother demanded dangerously.   

Cris swallowed his nerves and smiled sheepishly as his mother, "A month?"   

"Are you kidding me?  How could you not tell me?"  Florence demanded.   

"The fuck?  How could he not tell _me_?"  Ariella exclaimed.   

"Wait, why does half this room seem unsurprised, Irial Dorian?"  Rosie hissed, crossing her arms over her chest and raising her eyebrows at him.   

Irial looked to Cris sheepishly, but Cris shook his head.  He had to deal with his mother and step-father and sister, like hell he'd deal with Irial's psychotic best friend too.  Irial smiled nervously at Rosie, "Um...because Cris has a big mouth and spilled to the boys.  And the boys have _huge_ mouths—"   

"Hey!" Dominic protested while Benji just shrugged.  Micah winced when Cheryl pinched him and rolled her eyes.   

"—and leaked it to Angus.  And Angus totally outed us to Miranda and Harry."   

Rosie turned to Harry and glared, " _You_ knew?  Are you fucking kidding me?  I'm your best friend and everyone knew before me?"   

"We didn't," Both Cris and Irial's mother's said together, raising their hands with annoyed looks on their faces.  Cris cringed while Irial just waved them both off, more focused on Rosie.   

"I know, and I'm so sorry.  But I did tell you when I bought the ring, and you're going to be my best man!"   

"Really?"  Rosie asked, eyes-wide and a pleased smile on her face a moment before she forced her expression stony again, "And fuck you, I'll be your best lady because fuck if I'm wearing a _suit_.  That's way too many pairs of pants at the aisle."   

Cris and Irial just started snickering.  Cris kind of loved their massive family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only fourteen more chapters to post including the sort of epilogue. I'm really really happy about that. This story's been my life for like a really long time. It's almost finished.


	47. "Wake Me Up" Avicii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes people just kind of lose it a bit...  
> The stress, you know.

**Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
I think my costume is mildly inappropriate (and so, so gay lol) #LadyGaga #MyLife #ImGettingLaidTonight  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@DorianII...this is why you should tell me about your costumes ahead of time T.T  
  
 **Arthur Bailey (@ArthurBailey)**  
Holy shit the costume on @DorianII is barely even existent. Lmao I'm scarred #AndDrunk #AndAmused #AndEntertained #LoveDorianSeriously  
  
 **Irial Dorian and Arthur Bailey starting a league?**  
It wasn't until Cris Emerson hosted a blowout Halloween bash at his million dollar pad in Primrose Hill last week that we learned that Irial and Arsenal forward, Arthur Bailey, weren't only acquaintances, but, apparently, friends as well.  Just when you thought this couldn't get anymore of an 'OMG' moment, it did.  Just this weekend, Dorian, Bailey, and several of their star-studded and Twitter-famous friends entertained quite a few onlookers by starting up a friendly game of football in Regent's Park that apparently turned quite competitive when Cheryl Atterberry, girlfriend of Micah Cross and co-host Cherrie Taylor of Dorian Speaks, tripped the footie star.  Before all the Crisial shippers get their hearts broken of Irial Dorian trading in bromance with Cris Emerson for Arthur Bailey onlookers say that when not indulging in a friendly footie rivalry with Bailey, he was chatting and joking around with Emerson on the of the pitch or talking with renowned mixologist, Beverly Dixon, confirmed girlfriend of Dominic Kinsey.  Unexpected and cute how these boybanders and football stars aim for normalcy and never quite seem to succeed.  
  
 **B4 Updates (@B4_Updates)**  
@breakingfourth nominated for two AMAs, best group and best song for 'Lighthouse'!  
  
To: crossesoflead@gmail.com.uk  
Cc: wildechaild@gmail.com.uk  
From: sterling.harold@dissidentmanagement.org.uk  
Subject: RE: AMAs  
Cris,  
You know I'd love to be emailing you saying of course Irial can come to the AMAs like you asked.  We both also know that since you sent me this email and not Ashton, and that I replied and not Ashton that he can't.  Ashton and Daniel are very concerned about image and presentation and feel like, despite how low key you and Irial have been keeping everything, that it just hasn't been enough. I'm sorry. Also, they're planning for you and Davina to meet up while the boys are in LA, just a heads up.  
Harold Benton-Sterling  
Dissident Management

* * *

"How's it feel to win yet _another_ AMA, Cris Emerson?"  Dominic batted his eyelashes at Cris who half-smiled and shrugged.   

"It would feel better if I was allowed to bring my boyfriend."   

Micah coughed and looked over at Cris who pursed his lips and shrugged while Micah hedged carefully, "I'm glad that's not actually what you said, because you sound serious enough."   

"I am serious," Cris replied, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.  He was _really_ tired of the bullshit.

**Iri** : Congrats on sweeping again. Can I just get the congrat texts automated?   

Cris snorted and shook his head, tucking his mobile into his pocket.  He grabbed his jean jacket and pulled it on, raising his eyebrows at the boys, "I think I'm in a mood."   

Benji scoffed and gave Cris a look that decidedly asked if he had seriously needed to say that out loud or if he was just being a facetious; Cris smiled slightly and gave a little shrug.  Dominic just came over and wrapped Cris in a tight hug, letting Cris latch onto him and just cling to him for a moment while he steadied himself.  When he let go, Dominic patted his head, "Anytime you need to stop this, we'll be here for you, you know.  You don't have to do this for us; we're big boys, we can take care of ourselves."   

Shaking his head, Cris rolled back his shoulders and steeled himself, "It's fine.  I got us into this mess, and I can get us out.  Two more years only."   

The boys all exchanged long looks before forcing a smiles and nodding at him, all of them avoiding eye-contact.  Cris sighed and ran a hand through his hair.  The last thing he needed were the boys worrying; it was bad enough Irial eyed him musingly every time he walked out the door, not that Cris didn't appreciate the acknowledgement for Cris's well-being from Irial, but he certainly could live without the concern from the boys.  The least people that stressed about how much Cris could handle, the better, too many eyes and he'd stress even more.   

His mobile went off, and he pulled out his phone and smiled.

**Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
Princess @Cris_Emerson is so talented...look more awards for you to display   

Cris smiled slightly and shook his head; Irial had that uncanny ability to sniff out Cris's breakdowns from five thousand miles away and take his mind off of everything.  Ignoring the lingering looks he could still feel on his backside, Cris slipped out of Dominic's hotel room and headed down the hallway, completely ignoring the member of his management team waiting for him in the hall, only peeking to find Olivia.  Olivia, he could deal with at the very least, which meant Harry had probably had a hand in this particular mess.

**Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@DorianII you have two in that case unless you've forgotten   

Olivia tossed Cris a sidelong glance as they got in the elevator, but he barely paid her any mind until she sighed, "Are you going to be on that all night?  You know how Ashton and Daniel feel about that."   

"I noticed you didn't mention Harry."   

She scoffed, "Harry's too pissed at both of them to give two shits what the hell you do as long as you're not snogging Irial on public television."   

She might have a point.

**Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
@Cris_Emerson...somehow I think you're making fun of me :(  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@DorianII never elf, never XD   

"Where are Davina and I off to tonight?"   

Olivia glanced at him warily, "Nowhere too fancy otherwise I would have told you earlier...not that you would have actually _listened_ to me if I'd said black tie."  Cris shrugged and didn't bother to lie, not to Olivia; that girl had more than enough of her own problems that Cris didn't need to add to them by giving her false hopes.  She sighed, "Gordon Ramsay's restaurant.  Davina's already here and waiting for you.  The directions are programmed on the GPS.  Also, try not to look so utterly bored by the whole experience, yeah?"   

Cris rolled his eyes and faked a smile.  Olivia gave him a thumbs-up, and Cris shook his head at her and ducked his head.  She was possibly the only member of his management team that he didn't verbally assault these days.  Everyone else was fed up with him, which was probably why Harry had given her the task of sending him off on his dreaded PR date.  He turned to go to the garage when Olivia called over her shoulder:   

"And don't text and drive, Crispin!"   

He smirked and shook his head.

**Iri** : Would it be weird to wish you good luck on your PR date?

**Cris** : Yes elf and please don't. But I am going to Gordon Ramsay's restaurant ^.^

**Iri** : OMG you suck balls! Wtf! How could you????? T.T   

Smiling at Irial's dramatics, Cris hopped into the car where he could already see Davina sitting in the passenger's seat, biting her bottom lip and frowning at her mobile.   

Davina Allard was beautiful and actually sweet despite what appearances otherwise led people to believe, but Cris kind of wanted to wring her neck every single time he saw her.  It was nothing entirely personal, and they actually managed to have a decent time together whenever most of the cameras went away.  The thing about it was, Cris found it incredibly difficult not to resent her for the fact that she was in this PR relationship for the...well...publicity while he was stuck in it trying to cover up his relationship.  Davina willingly pushed aside her own relationship with her boyfriend to play this part while Cris was forced to; he'd managed well enough with Alina, because she'd been in the same boat as him, but Davina, nice and sweet as she was, had been born and raised a media princess and acted accordingly.   

By the time they'd gotten to the restaurant, they'd barely spoken twenty words to each other the whole time and couldn't even work up the energy for smiles for the hoard of paparazzi waiting for them in the parking lot.  Cris put his hand on the small of Davina's back and ushered her into the restaurant's interior, keeping up appearances until they were seated at the table, reading over the menu while both of them fiddled with their phones.

**Cris** : Not watching the new Vanderpump Rules without me, are you?

**Iri** : No, Crispin, I'm not you who's ripping out my heart and soul right now. I had plans!

**Cris** : For a restaurant? O.o   

Davina glanced up at him over her menu, looking down quickly when he met her gaze; he stifled a sigh.  Honestly, the number of times they'd been doing this, you'd think they're have broken the awkward initial start of the date awkwardness but apparently that was going to stick around.  They had common interests like...shared secret boyfriends, appreciation for red meat, and a mild interest in fashion.  Despite that, they couldn't quite overcome their awkwardness.   

"How have you been?"  Cris hedged, "It's been awhile?"   

Not long enough.   

"I've been good," Davina smiled slightly.  "I hear you've been up to some interesting things in London."   

A lot tamer than usual.   

"Nothing that wild," Cris replied, taking several sips of his wine.   

Davina pretended not to notice.   

"Look," Davina said slowly, "can we skip this part?"

**Iri** : No, for your arse?

**Iri** : Yes, for the restaurant!

**Cris** : So...no plans for my arse then? Disappointing...

**Iri** : You hijacked my restaurant bitch! If you seriously think you're getting laid .-.

**Cris** : I'll take you to hibachi and gelato or the pub or like whatever :*

**Iri** : smh you're so easy love <3   

"This part?" Cris reiterated, raising his eyebrow, though he knew exactly what she was talking about.  He just wasn't sure how to make it go away.   

"Yes," Davina sighed, " _this_ part.  The me and you being awkward like we've just met each other for the first time.  I get it.  You don't want to be here.  I don't want be here."   

"Why are you here, then?"  Cris asked, cocking his head at her and sipping his wine.  Davina hesitated, looking taken aback by the question.  She reached for her wineglass haltingly, paused, and then continued, downing the glass's whole content while Cris quirked an eyebrow at you.  He pursed his lips and looked over her frail frame, "Are you even _legal_ in the States?"   

Davina made a face at the taste of downing that much wine in one go and shook her head, "I feel like it's necessary if we're actually going to have this conversation."

**Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
@HaroldBSterling legitimately just did a shot from someone's arse...some things you can't unsee  
  
 **Irian Dorian (@DorianII)**  
How weird would it be if I did a body shot off @rosieposie?  #PrettyWeirdRight  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
Yep...weirdly uncomfortable...but there was no licking #ThatWouldCrossALine   

Cris swallowed and took another sip of his wine, grimacing.  He seriously didn't think anything would happen at whatever party Harry, Rosie, and Irial had decided to crash, especially since Rosie and Harry were there, but...he didn't know.  Something about this whole thing bothered him.

**Cris** : Do you often do shots off your straight friends?

**Iri** : Would you rather I did shots off the gay ones?   

Actually, Cris would rather Irial not do shots off of anyone, but he'd never really told Irial that.  It didn't bother Cris for any specific reason, because Irial just tended to get really into the parties he attended, and he tended to attend a _fucking lot_ of parties when Cris went out of town on his PR dates.  That was his coping mechanism, and Cris wouldn't begrudge him that and didn't get upset about it when he himself was actually in attendance with Irial and saw half the shit Irial did at parties.   

Maybe it bothered him because he _wasn't_ there.  And because half the reason Irial was getting shit-faced at parties was because Cris wasn't there.  He was off in California going on highly-publicized PR dates with beautiful, nineteen-year-old celebrities.

**Cris** : I'd rather you not do shots off of anyone

**Iri** : Me too.   

Sighing, Cris ran a hand through his hair and looked up at Davina, "Half the planet knows why I'm here.  Why are you here, Davina?  It's not like you have to be."   

Davina laughed humorlessly, "Is that what you think?  You think that I'm such a fame-whore that I actually would rather be here with you and all our mutual awkwardness with each other instead of with my actual boyfriend?"   

"I don't _want_ to say yes, but I mean, why else does someone sign onto being a PR girlfriend when they're not hiding their sexual orientation, have a perfectly steady relationship with someone half-way decent, and especially when we're as awkward with each other as we are."   

"Do you ask all your PR girlfriends such personal questions, because I can imagine why they didn't stick around long," Davina pointed out calmly, but the look in her eyes said the commented was meant to be as pointed as it sounded.   

Cris shrugged, "Why are you avoiding the question?  It's because you are a bit of a fame-whore even if you don't want to be, right?  You don't want to thrive off of publicity, but you do.  Everyone does, there's no harm in admitting it, and I've been in an actual relationship whose whole focal point was PR to provide a step-ladder her career, so at least this one's upfront, isn't it?"   

Davina bristled, "What do you know about PR and getting a leg-up in this industry?  What do you know about me?"   

"Nothing," Cris remarked, "at least not about you, but I figured that's the way you wanted it.  And don't act like such a victim," Cris said tonelessly, "I know a whole hell of a lot about PR giving you a leg-up on your career.  That's all I've been hearing since my management found out about my on-again, off-again sort-of boyfriend six _years_ ago.  There's nothing wrong with being driven enough to use publicity to your advantage, it was just a question, one you shouldn't be ashamed of."   

"My family—" she began, but Cris saw where that one was going and was in no mood to deal with the blame game.   

"Yeah, well, you don't have to go along with it.  That's a _choice_ , because it's good for your career," Cris sneered, not meaning to be deliberately cruel, but in way too dark of a mood to be anything but.   

Davina glared daggers at him, "Oh come off it, you're using the press just as much as I am to cover up the fact that you can't go fifteen minutes without texting your boyfriend.  You think I want to be a beard?"   

"No," Cris replied, shrugging, "I think you want to be a supermodel.  I want to be out.  That's the difference between you and me."   

"That why you're so pissy today?" Davina snapped.   

Cris sighed and shook his head, getting to his feet, "That's why we're done with this.  I'll get the check."

**Cris** : I think I just broke up with my PR gf...   

His mobile was ringing in a second, and Cris ducked into the men's bathroom and leaned his head back against the wall while he answered the phone, "Iri."   

"Do I want to know what happened?"  Irial asked gently by way of greeting, sounding a lot more sober than Cris had really expected him to.   

He sighed, "People say that this industry got better than forcing people to marry people who made them look good publicity-wise and turning them into singers when they wanted to be drummers.  But it hasn't, not really, everything's still just the same, they're just better at hiding it."   

Irial was silent for a moment, "What do you want, love?"   

"You," Cris admitted, stifling a sob, "why is that is that too much to ask for?"   

"It isn't," Irial remarked with a sigh.  "Take Davina home.  Skype me when you get back to the hotel, and we'll figure the rest of this out in the morning, alright?"   

"Alright."   

"Crispin?"   

"Yeah, elf?"   

"I love you."   

Cris smiled and breathed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me and my Google...someday I'm gonna eat at one of Gordon Ramsay's restaurants (with hopefully less melodramatics). OMG that Star-Crossed tonight. If you don't watch that CW show do it man! There's a canon bi/lesbian/we're not really sure yet character like omg, what is life? And Daenrys Targaryen for queen. I'm so slacking on my transcriptions but I'm almost all caught up. I just need someone to annihilate Melisandra...die.


	48. "Hold On We're Going Home" Drake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irial's cell bill must be a killer. Red and black is not a wedding color scheme. Someone decides they want out.

**Dominic Kinsey (@Nic_Kinsey)**  
No shave November ended early this year I heard...  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
And I'm just here like "shitstorm, come at me bro, I'll wait."  
  
 **Cris Emerson and Davina Allard split?**  
It was barely two weeks ago when we found Cris Emerson and Davina Allard making it almost five months and saw them grabbing dinner the night after Breaking Fourth collected two AMAs.  During that infamous dinner, reports claimed Emerson and Allard's conversation got heated, and Emerson left the table for fifteen minutes before coming back, paying the check, and escorting Allard home, neither of them saying two words to each other and both of them on the phone the whole time.  If anyone was wondering if the pair would be finding their way back to each other, the popstar confirmed on best friend, Irial Dorian's radio show today that they were "definitely done" and he sees "no chance" of them rekindling that adorable and surprisingly love-lived relationship.  We can say, truthfully, we're not too terribly heartbroken to see Ms. Allard go.  
  
 **Best Day Ever!!!!!! (B4x103xx)**  
#dorianspeaks confirmed #Davis is OVER!!!!!!! #yaaaassssss #CrisialIsReal #bestdayever  
  
 **Tracey the Shipper (@traces2011)**  
You learn the best things on #dorianspeaks #DavisIsDead #CrisialIsReal #omfg #finally  
  
 **-.- (@dorifordavis)**  
Here we go again with the deluded Crisial shippers. The families have denied it. They've denied it. It clearly bothers them both #stfu #CrisialIsFake #stahpit  
  
 **Angels & Demons (@picturethis_B4)**  
@dorifordavis 'deluded' is not a word, no one's outright denied Crisial just denied SOMETHING and it doesn't bother @DorianII #GetYourFactsStraight #HeFollowsCrisialShippers  
  
To: djkinsey@gmail.com.uk; mustlovedogs@gmail.com.uk; crossesoflead@gmail.com.uk; chriscrossedmicah@gmail.com.uk  
From: sawyer.ashton@dissidentmanagement.org.uk  
Subject: Grammy Nomination Concert  
Boys,  
You've been asked to attend the Grammy Nomination concert on Friday, December 8.  We went ahead and confirmed.  
Ashton Sawyer  
Dissident Management  
  
 **RT by @CrisialUpdates**  
 **B4 Updates (@B4_Updates)**  
@breakingfourth has been nominated for two Grammys, song of the year and best record!  
  
 **This world we live in (@darlingdori)**  
And...@Cris_Emerson stayed behind to flirt with Victoria's Secret models #WhosGoingToPickOutATreeWithDorian

* * *

"So, your sister is totally into this Charlie Brown tree; it's hideous, like patchy bald not even through and through, what the actual fuck is wrong with your sister?"  Irial asked Crispin through the mobile, raising an eyebrow at Ariella who simply flipped him off before linking her arm through Lucy's and tugging her along.  Irial followed and rolled his eyes, "I think she's just pissed that I totally nixed her idea of getting a frosted tree.  How about no?"   

"You're a jackass!" Ariella called back cheerfully.  Irial waved at her and smiled.   

Crispin laughed, "Nice, is my _whole_ family up your arse or just Ari?"   

"All of them, and how are you taking this so calmly, I thought part this relationship thing was that yours is the only dick I'm allowed?"  Irial asked archly, grinning innocently at Max when he passed by and slanted Irial a look.  Yeah, okay, so he really had to work on spacial awareness; it's not like Max had grown up _knowing_ Irial was gay, but he probably didn't need to hear it quite so graphically.   

"Right, should I tell my family to stop gangbanging you, then?"   

"Oh my fuckin—gross, that's _disgusting_ Crispin, you take these jokes too damn far sometimes, I swear," Irial shook his head and raised his eyebrows when he saw Lucy and Ariella taking a selfie in front of a massive Christmas tree complete with duck lips and finger peace signs.  Irial sighed, "When did my baby sister turn into one of _those_ girls?  She's taking _selfies_ , Crispin, and has an active Twitter."   

Crispin laughed again, "Your poor thing.  But you'll be happy, I complied about not following her on Twitter, although I did favorite her humiliation."   

"That drunken snog with Emily Duncan?"   

"Yep."   

Irial grinned wickedly at Lucy who raised her eyebrows at Irial from where she'd bent down to hug Marius who both Irial and Cris's respective stepfathers, Dexter and Hunter, adored and had therefore staked a claim on for this Christmas tree shopping exercise, "I love you."   

"You're evil," Crispin remarked, but it was said fondly and with amusement so Irial didn't take it to heart.   

A figure slammed into Irial's side, and he startled and glanced down to find Eleanor attached to his side, hugging him closely like the little monkey she'd always been even when she was younger.  Sighing, Irial rolled his eyes at her and bopped her on the nose before walking towards where the rest of their joint family unit had congregated, being just as choosy with Christmas trees as Irial.  Florence and Molly, on the other hand, were standing in the aisle, talking with their heads close together and massive smiles on their faces; Irial narrowed his eyes suspiciously.   

"I think our mothers are covertly planning the whole wedding."   

"Maybe introducing them was a bad idea."   

"Maybe we should just _let_ them," Irial replied, pursing his lips.  Crispin liked to pretend he had a talent for fashion, but Irial seriously doubted that if Crispin and him were left to their own devices, their wedding would be little more than patterns, bright colors, and swatches of natural decorations.   

Crispin made a noise of protest, "No!  We'll end up with a color scheme of pastels and lillies."   

"As opposed to..."   

"Black and red," Crispin said simply, sounding _way_ too proud of himself.   

Irial frowned and hesitated before shaking his head, "Princess, this isn't a collaring ceremony.  Black and red?  When the hell did we go goth?"  Crispin huffed, but it sounded more amused than anything; Eleanor still holding on to him tightly, Irial made his way over to their mothers, "Flossie!  Your son has lost his mind.  Black and red for a color scheme, he says."   

Florence and Molly shared grimaces before Florence shook her head and muttered about 'that boy having no taste,' before saying aloud, "This is not BDSM wedding, and if it is...you'll have to save that shit for the privacy of your own room.  This is a _family_ event."   

Irial laughed, "Your mother agrees with me, love."   

Crispin cursed while Florence wrinkled her nose at Irial, "Not entirely.  Ask my son where this whole event will take place."   

Sighing in exasperation, Irial waved a hand dismissively, "Crispin, love, your... _dear_ mother," Florence swatted Irial, and he laughed, ducking behind Eleanor who raised her eyebrows at her brother, unimpressed, "Wants to know rather unnecessarily _where_ we want this wedding of the century—that _better_ be _small_ , I'm just saying—is to take place."   

Molly smiled at Irial and shook her head while pressing a kiss to his forehead; Florence grinned and listed, "Paris, Milan, Barcelona..."   

"Tell my mother, rather redundantly, that London sounds nice," Crispin deadpanned.   

Chuckling, Irial informed her, "Crispin votes London."   

"You've corrupted him," Florence said dramatically.   

Even Molly shook her head, "Boring.  I raised a boring child."   

Eleanor giggled, "Have you _seen_ his Twitter, mum?"   

"Was that _Ellie_?"  Crispin balked.   

Molly raised an eyebrow and pointed a finger at Eleanor, " _You'd_ better not have."   

She hid her head in Irial's jacket while Crispin huffed out a laugh, "Tell the mothers from hell that I wouldn't be averse to Brighton."   

Smiling slightly and shaking his head, Irial passed that along while Florence pursed her lips and shook her head, "I wouldn't mind Brighton."   

Irial and Crispin laughed while Crispin replied, " _She_ wouldn't mind if we got married in Brighton.  I forgot when this became _her_ wedding."   

"Where did she get remarried?"  Irial mused.   

"Cheshire," Crispin answered flatly.  Irial shook his head, wandering away from his mother and watching their family chat over which tree they'd be taking back to Irial and Crispin's house like they owned it.  Molly and Florence were _still_ gossiping over what _they_ wanted from this wedding.  Crispin sighed when the sounds of everybody died, "I don't think I'll be able to get home by our anniversary elf."   

Irial bit his lip and nodded, upset but not with Crispin so much as the whole situation that his management's practices had put them in, "I figured, princess, it's alright."   

Crispin exhaled a huff, tense and angry, "No, it's _not_.  Nothing about you _expecting_ I'd miss our _anniversary_ is alright, not for them to take pictures of me watching women prance down a runway in lingerie.  It's irritating.  _This_ is _exactly_ what you said you _didn't_ want to happen."   

Tugging his beanie lower over his ears, Irial nodded, "Yeah, it is, princess.  And, yes, I'm upset you're not here because you're off being photographed with a bunch of Victoria's Secret models and Willamina—"   

"You saw those _already_?"  Irial could hear Crispin's grimace over the phone.   

"Your management moves _fast_ ," Irial remarked flatly, shaking his head before continuing, "but it's not forever, you'll be home soon, and your family and my family and _I'm_ going to be right here.  And it's not like you _forgot_ our anniversary so don't stress.  I still love you despite your tasteless appreciation for half-naked models."   

Crispin snorted, "I'd much rather have _you_ completely naked."   

"That's good to know, Crispin, it wouldn't particularly bode well for our relationship if you _didn't_.  And, you'll be home soon and think of all the much more enjoyable shenanigans we can get up to then."   

"Hj, bj, rj?"  Crispin laughed.   

Irial shook his head; he _never_ should have let Crispin watch G.B.F with him, but he recited the next line regardless, "What's an rj?"   

"I'll show you when I come home," Crispin promised, and Irial smirked.   

"Tease."   

"You love it."   

Of course, he did; Irial loved _everything_ about Crispin completely, ridiculously, "I love you. Go have fun."   

"Is that a requirement?  You're not going to give me blue balls when I come home if I don't enjoy myself, right?"   

"Never, Crispin," Irial told him sincerely, getting to his feet when he noticed Dexter waving him over.   

"I miss you," Crispin said in a quiet, weak voice, and Irial ducked his head and bit his lip.  He kept thinking this was going to get easier, but it never seemed to.

* * *

A five hour time difference between New York City and London didn't seem like such a big thing when Crispin and Irial were having their little tête-à-têtes during normal human hours, but when Irial's phone started blaring Crispin's choice ringtone for the week—'Rock Me' by One Direction, an enlightened choice if he ever heard one—the time difference was _killer_.   

Irial jolted awake, not able to get far due to Marius's bulk half-sprawled across his legs, the way he was only allowed to when Crispin wasn't home (and if that canine didn't take full advantage); the adopted bengal kitten that they'd seriously been unreasonable enough to name 'Junebug' made a mewl of protest, flexing beside Irial's head and shooting him an evil, one-eyed look when he reached across her to yank his mobile off its charger and glare at the numbers 1:17 glowing bright red from his alarm clock.   

"Crispin, love, do you know what—"   

"I'm done," Crispin cut him off before he could even finish in his sleep-induced drawl.   

Irial sat up suddenly, wide awake, "Wait, wait, slow down, and use a hell of a lot more descriptors than that."  As he spoke, Irial climbed out of bed, and Junebug rolled her eyes at him, yawning and stretching out across the whole pillow while Marius perked his head up, hopping off the bed and following Irial as he pulled on one of Crispin's jumpers, relishing in the lingering whiff of Crispin that enveloped him as he buried his face into the fabric and crept out of the room and down the stairs to the kitchen with Marius beside him.  Trying to calm his suddenly overpowering nerves, Irial put on a pot of tea, and hopped up onto the counter and forced himself to ask:   

"Alright, love, what are you done with?  You done with being in New York?  You done with management?  You done with music?  You done with _us_?"  Irial half-choked out the last word, heart pounding about a mile a minute.  Sensing his distress, Marius whined and stood on his hind legs, paws on the counter, licking at Irial's face; Irial exhaled shakily through his nose, none of the tension easing but at least feeling slightly better with Crispin's wayward canine around for some semblance of support.   

Crispin laughed humorlessly, "I'm done with the bullshit, Iri.  I'm twenty-one years old and sound like a spoiled child because I'm over here pouting like 'I want to go home', but it's December _twentieth_ and I'm _still_ fucking around in New York with models and actresses and singers who either want to be home just as much as I do or have nothing to go home _for_."   

"That's not childish, princess," Irial said softly, pouring his tea one-handedly and mixing in sugar only, too lazy to get up and go get his milk.  He patted Marius on the head absently and tossed the dog a sugar cube, knowing it wouldn't even remotely help his hyperactivity.  He heard someone say something in the background that Crispin stoically ignored, and Irial frowned, "Where are you right now, love?"   

"In a meeting with management," Crispin replied sulkily.   

"Like... _in_ a meeting with management?"  Irial balked before sighing and running a hand through his messy hair, "Alright, and they...what?  Told you that you can't come home for the holidays?"   

"Not exactly," Crispin huffed, "they want me to stay out here 'a few more days' as if that wouldn't basically mean that I'd end up home on Christmas Morning and be there maybe three _days_ before we have to come right back to New York to perform in Times Square."  Irial nodded despite the fact that Crispin couldn't see it, back on even footing now that he _sort of_ knew what Crispin had meant by 'I'm done'.  Crispin loved performing, loved music, and loved celebrations, but it didn't surprise him in the slightest that he was pissed he was sacrificing so much of his holiday playing the playboy when all of his bandmates had flown home _days_ ago to be with their families.   

"So...you're done with the bullshit, you want to come home, you don't have much of a Christmas holiday, but what _exactly_ does 'I'm done' mean, Crispin?"  Irial inquired slowly, carefully.   

Crispin half-laughed, half-sobbed, exhausted and exasperated and more than a little torn up about everything, "Irial, I haven't like _actually_ seen you in _weeks_.  And they're over here saying I can't go home, you can't come when I perform at Times Square, but Cheryl's coming and Beverly's coming, and I'm just...how much more am I supposed to actually endure for this bullshit, Iri?  At this point, I'm so exhausted that if being 'done' with music is my only option, the boys don't need me and, according to everyone at Dissident, are better off not being stained by the shameful presence of a gay bandmate."   

Blinking in shock, Irial took the phone away from his ear and stared at it in shock.   

Crispin without music?   

Irial couldn't even _fathom_ that level of insanity; it wasn't that Crispin was incapable or couldn't survive without his music career.  Irial was good at investments, and Crispin had a decent pile of cash squirreled away, but he just legitimately _could not_ picture Crispin just sitting at home twiddling his thumbs.  Maybe _some_ people could retire at twenty-one after spending six years nursing his multi-million dollar music career, but Crispin wasn't one of them.  This was a man who needed music like humans needed oxygen, who played it near constantly so that there was never a quiet moment in the house, who hummed when he cooked, and begged Irial to come with him to random jazz festivals and rock concerts whenever both of them had a spare moment to just _go_ , who scribbled lyrics on his arms and literally just stopped walking on their morning walks with Marius to hum and type out a few bars on his mobile, who literally wrote a whole song in his head over _breakfast_ and got so terrified he'd forget it that he sang the whole thing into his phone and smiling cheekily at Irial over the counter.  He'd hummed Beethoven and Falling in Reverse songs under his breath while rocking Junebug when she'd first gotten her nails cut and had been terrified, and he had let Irial rest his head in his lap and curl up on their padded piano bench to play Sara Bareilles songs to Irial when he'd been sick.   

Just like how Irial couldn't picture his life without Crispin or Dorian Speaks with Cherrie or trading insults over Sunday brunch with Rosie while Harry just watched the pair of them amused, snickering under his breath when Crispin was home and attending, Irial didn't even think he could _imagine_ Crispin without being able to channel his emotions into songs for the boys or interacting with fans or playing at concerts with the boys because he just _loved_ it so much.   

"Crispin," Irial said slowly, "if that's what you _really_ want to do, then I won't argue with you, but I don't think you'll enjoy retirement, I don't think you'll enjoy life without the boys, and I think you'll resent me for being the reason you chose this."   

"I don—"   

"Crispin," Irial said carefully.  "Come home, fuck what Ashton says, I'll text Harry and let him know what's going on.  You think about this here with me and your family and my family and Rosie's bringing over hers and Harry's family Christmas Day, talk to the boys, and try to just imagine life where you don't have music and make a decision then.  Don't rush this just because you're exhausted and feel like you're out of options.  I'll stand by you whatever you decide, alright?"   

Crispin exhaled tensely but sounded more than a little relieved, "I love you so much, Irial...I just...thanks."   

"I know, love, come home."   

Irial wondered when it had stopped being Crispin had held Irial together and become the other way around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm dying G.B.F. is hilarious. I think I've probably said that before, but I'm reiterating. Anyway, this is Crispin's second breakdown in two chapters. Personally, I just think he's rather entitled to it after almost four years of playing the good soldier for his management. Break down well deserved. It's excellent.


	49. "Hello" Karmin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irial has a spontaneous twitcam that Cris (and his grandmother) crashes. And they might as well just wear t-shirt saying they're together it would be more subtle.

**The Christmas Elf (@DorianII)**  
Got almost all my bitches with me @LucyGrey @WutheredCathy @EllietheSquib  
  
**The Christmas Elf (@DorianII)**  
Not my main ho, though, she's in Westminster chilling with her clan...sigh #WeAreGrowingApart  
  
**Irish Rose (@rosieposie)**  
How can we when you're always around @DorianII? I'll see you for dinner pleb...lol @Cris_Emerson should change your name more often #MerryChristmas #OhTheseBoys  
  
**The Christmas Elf (@DorianII)**  
All these family gatheringsand shit #SoManyPeopleInMyHouse...and my wake up call this morning from @EllietheSquib @Maxwell_Greyson while ppl were naked in bed .-.  
  
**The Christmas Elf (@DorianII)**  
These women think they're so funny #IDontNeedCondoms #LOL #THEYFOUNDBoysenberryLube ^.^  
  
**The Christmas Elf (@DorianII)**  
Is giving someone a puppy a weird mating ritual? #IThinkItIs  
  
**Princess Cris-tmas (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@DorianII...homo sapien saplings........XD?  
  
**The Christmas Elf (@DorianII)**  
@Cris_Emerson lmao, that memory though :D  
  
**Cris-tmas Elf (@DorianII)**  
Bitch stole my phone...not cool... (Looking at you @Cris_Emerson)  
  
**Princess Cris-tmas (@** **Cris_Emerson)**  
I GOT VANS WARPED TICKETS!!!!!! #BestChristmas  
  
**Cris-tma** **s Elf (@DorianII)**  
Too many cooks in the kitchen and...@LucyGrey totally was the one who turned up the heat on the oven (higher heat doesnt equal faster cook time apparently)  
  
**Cris-tmas Elf (@DorianII)**  
@rosieposie @holdtheirish @HaroldBSterling mothers saved supper! #SuperMoms #KeepLucyOutOfTheKitchen #ShesNotAtManchesterForCulinaryArts  
  
**Princess Cris-tmas (@Cris_Emerson)**  
Sometimes all you need is a different perspective and someone who knows you better than yourself to figure it out #HappyChristmas #HappyNewYear  
  
**Crisial Updates (@CrisialUpdates)**  
So...Cris's sister took a pic of her and Iri together at xmas today and Cris may have gotten Iri a dog...xmas with the fams maybe? #WeCanOnlyHope  
  
**Happy Christmas (@darlingdori)**  
@Cris_Emerson and @DorianII both followed me today!!! And they apparently are spending xmas together...Iri had a naked person in his bed this morning...  
  
**Happy Christmas (@darlingdori)**  
Iri picked up Cri

s from the airport...they were spotted at a tattoo parlor...then MIA until xmas...ok #justsaying #sorrynotsorry  
  
**RT by @CrisialUpdates, @Cherrie_TA, @rosieposie, @Cris_Emerson, @darlingdori**  
**Cris-tmas Elf (@DorianII)**  
End of Christmas live stream...because #ily #ItsChristmas #INeedToEscapeMyFamily #YouCanMeetJunebug

* * *

"Hello everybody who's watching my live stream despite the fact that it's Christmas, which Happy Christmas!  I really just wanted to try out my new Macbook's webcam...my boyfriend, seriously boss that one...but whatever...and oh my God can I gush like a fangirl because my favorite YouTuber—who's like a fetus, by the way—put out a Christmas video of him skinny dipping in a _fucking freezing_ pond in _Russia_.  Like boy, you are in the _Arctic Circle_ , don't even play with me.   

"Rosie was here today, and she made fun of my new tattoo, which, look!"  Irial held the underside of his arm out at an awkward angle to show off his new anchor and wheel tattoo that he and Crispin had gotten, literally three days ago after Irial had picked him up from the airport and shoved greasy McDonald's comfort food at him.  Between tattoos and fast food, Crispin had cheered up in no time, "It's _beautiful_ like all my tattoos are."   

"Lies," Crispin announced, dropping onto the bed beside Irial shirtless and with Marius in tow, cradling his second—and mutual because Irial _knew_ he was just as attached to the little Australian puppy as Iri was—Christmas gift to his chest.  Crispin cocked his head at the screen, "Hello, twitcam people."   

"You're gonna break it, Crispin," Irial whined when he'd finally managed to pull himself away from gaping at Crispin shirtless, toned abs and numerous tattoos completely on display as well as the asso

rtment of dark bruises and bites that Irial had spent the past three days etching into his skin whenever they had a free moment between their families and friends dropping ina and out.  He swallowed the lump in his throat, tearing his eyes away from Crispin who smirked at Irial, sitting way too close to Irial, the blue-eyed Australian shepherd puppy nipping at Crispin's necklace until Crispin bopped her gently on the nose.  He rested his chin on Irial's shoulder, breath ghosting against Irial's throat, and Irial licked his lips automatically before forcing himself to remain calm and not spring a boner on a live stream, "I found a shirtless popstar...and _my_ puppy."   

Crispin grinned and ducked his head, pressing a kiss to Irial's shoulder in such a smooth, underhanded motion that it left goosebumps on Irial's skin _and_ managed to avoid the view of the camera, "Say hi to all the people, Stassi."   

Irial nodded, "Yes, she, like her namesake, Vanderpump Rules princess, is a _bitch_.  I'm just saying."  Crispin chuckled lowly, and Irial bit his bottom lip and shook his head, glancing over at Crispin, "Did you mother _finally_ release you to the pleasure of my company?"   

Huffing, Crispin looked over when Marius whined and patted the bed for him to come up.  Marius took the hint, hopping in front of them and wasting no time sprawling out across the end of the bed, leaning against their cross-legs and licking the camera.  Crispin rescued the laptop while Stassi wriggled free from Crispin to curl up beside the bigger dog; he gave Irial a long-suffering look, " _Yes_ , after she spent a good fifteen minutes asking where _I_ put the tea; I didn't put it _anywhere_.  All I ever use is the Keurig.  _I_ make coffee.  Honestly."   

"Mum says she heard that!"  Ariella yelled, peeking her head into the room.   

Irial grabbed a stupid decorative pillow that _always_ ended up on the floor until the pair of them decided to actually _make_ the bed...a rare occurrence...and tossed it at Ariella who laughed and ducked out of the way.  Crispin grimaced, "Ari acts like I don't have dirt on her."   

"Anything good?"  Irial inquired with pursed lips.   

Crispin grinned mischievously, "Oh yeah.  Do you want her, though, having family around was _great_ until it _wasn't_.  I'm quite ready for them to go home, elf."   

" _You're_ ready?  I h

ad a whole brood of teenagers over today.  How _dare_ you assume that _you've_ got problems."   

"Grandparents, Iri, grandparents."   

"No one told you to invite the old bats."   

"I heard that, Mr. Greyson," Crispin's grandmother, Lyndi, paused outside their cracked door and gave him a stern look; Irial pursed his lips and faked a smile, giving her a little finger wave.  She huffed and hefted the door the rest of the way open, and Crispin hid a smile, subtly turning the laptop to face the sterner, older version of Florence, wispy and wizened who had two cups of tea still in hand as she pointed a threatening finger at Irial, "I may be _old_ , but I'm in far better shape than you—"   

"I'll have you know, my cardio and stamina are _brilliant_."   

Lyndi held up a hand and made a face, "I'm still young enough to speak innuendo and to _hear_.  Shame on you, too, I was nice enough to bring you Oolong."   

Irial gasped, eyes widening, "You _found_ it under the sink behind the jars of tomato sauce?"   

"Of course," Crispin's grandmother huffed, handing Irial the steaming cup and kissing him on the cheek, giving the two dog's head an affectionate rub, "I'm not Flossie.  _That_ girl is as clueless as Crispin, I swear."   

"Hey!"  Crispin argued while his grandmother shrugged, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.  He sighed as she exited the room, closing the door firmly behind her, and Crispin pursed his lips at the camera, "So...that was my gran."   

Irial preened, "She's _fantastic_."   

"To _you_ ," Crispin scoffed, "and this has been my day _all_ day."   

Irial snickered, "Wh

ere are the babies?  Did they go home with my better half?"   

Crispin paused, faltered, frowned, and looked over at Irial with pursed lips, "I'm right here, though."   

Smirking, Irial knocked their arms together and sipped his tea, not even bothering to deny that, "My _female_ half, then."   

"Cheryl's with her _boyfriend_."   

"Now, you're just being a shit," Irial remarked, double checking the webcam's angle before shifting his hand go Crispin's lap and palming Crispin's cock through the fabric of New Zealand sweatpants.  Crispin hissed and shot a look at Irial who just sipped his tea innocently, expression bland as he said, "We both know she's the female version of me, but my one true feminine love is my female better half."   

Forgetting momentarily that Irial's hand was right above his half-hard cock, Crispin snapped back, "'One true love', yeah?"   

Skipping pretense completely, Irial wrapped his hand around Crispin's dick through the fabric of his pants, and Crispin froze, carefully schooling his expression, "I did say female.  Now, my babies?"   

"They're pretending that they're not building a pillow fort in the living room with Cathy and Lucy," Crispin admitted, voice off, and Irial quirked an eyebrow at him and continued sipping his tea, "I coughed up the camping gear for the cause."   

Irial scoffed and pumped Crispin's dick through the sweatpants, and he bit his bottom lip and looked up at the ceiling, fisting his hands in Marius's fur, their poor, poor dog, seriously, "How old are they again?"   

"Younger than they pretend to be."   

Rosie's 'C'mon' text tone by Kesha went off, and Irial could already tell what it was about; he released his hold on Crispin who breathed a sigh of relief, reaching behind Irial to grab his mobile off the nigh

tstand.  Irial rolled his eyes at the camera, "Speak of the devil."   

Crispin snickered and showed Irial the text message:

 **Rosie** : Evry1 watching thinks Cris is high or getting an hj

 **Rosie** : Harry says cut it out   

Pursing his lips, Irial slanted a sideways look at Crispin, "I always forget about the comment bar."   

"I always forget Rosie and Harry are so far in denial that they _actually_ abandoned their collective families at my house so that they could go home and play Candyland and watch your twitcam."

 **Irish Rose (@rosieposie)**  
@DorianII @Cris_Emerson fuck you both #dorianstream   

Irial laughed and pointed at the comment, making a hand heart for her, "We adore you too."  He paused and looked over at Crispin, "And it's MarioKart surely."   

"Anyway," Crispin said, pulling Irial's beanie down so that it completely covered his face, "we're going to stop ignoring you and actually pay attention to the comments."   

"We're going to answer questions?"  Irial pushed his hat up out of his eyes and narrowed his eyes on Crispin who grinned.   

"We're gonna answer questions."  Crispin tossed Irial's mobile in the air and winced when it missed his hand and slid off the end of the bed, clattering to the floor; shoulders tensed, Crispin peeked at Irial who just nodded, glaring, "I changed my ringtone?"   

"I hope to 'Don't Mess With Oujia Boards', genius."   

"Actually, 'Flaws' by B

astille."   

Irial raised an eyebrow, "Mildly appropriate.  I'll let it go just this once, princess."  Crispin beamed and poked Irial in the side, biting his bottom lip and eyeing Irial with a sudden glint of sadness in his eyes.  Smiling slightly, Irial reached over to his nightstand and grabbed the permanent marker he always kept handy, uncapping his teeth and grabbing Crispin's arm to write on it, while nudging him to start.   

"Alright, while Iri's busy being me for a change, let's see...best movie we ever saw?  Um...I'd say Star Trek...yeah, that epic love right there?"   

Irial snorted, "Between Spock and Uhura?"   

"Shut up!  That's not...oh my God, they're _awkward_ together, like a dog walking on its hind legs!"   

Laughing, Irial shook his head, "That cliche is so played out, mate.  And I disagree, I'm going for Winter's Tale."   

"And people think you're not a sap," Crispin clucked his tongue while Irial ducked his head, tongue poking out as he bent over his work.  "Someone wants to know if we're ever going to meet your boyfriend, Iri," Crispin said, tone carefully bland with a biting, sarcastic edge, "I don't know, _are_ you ever going to introduce your virtual fanbase to your mysterious boyfriend?"   

Irial peeked up at the webcam and grinned wolfishly, "Who's to say?  He's shy, and I rather like keeping him to myself."   

"Cop out,

" Crispin coughed, and Irial poked him in the cheek with the permanent marker before taking a hiatus from writing to draw a heart emoticon on Crispin's face.  Chuckling, Crispin poked Irial's side, "Iri, you gonna do your vlog again?  This bird seems _really_ passionate about it."   

"Um...sporadically," Irial peeked at Crispin who preened at Irial's usage of one of Crispin's words of the week, "they're a bit hard to stay on top of, if you remember."   

Crispin crossed his eyes, "Yeah, I fucking remember, Iri."   

Smirking at Crispin, Irial leaned in slightly to peck his cheek before pausing halfway into the action, realizing he _couldn't_ and ducked his head to finish his work with a flourish, feeling Crispin's eyes on him, "There!  I've finished!  And just in the nick of time too!"  Crispin rolled his eyes and peered down at the word Irial had written in his blocky handwriting that simply said 'Someday'; he looked up at Irial and gave him a tiny, sweet, understanding half-smile, and Irial shoved his shoulder dramatically before leaning in to read the comments.   

There were a shit ton asking if him and Crispin were really dating, one popping up asking if they really hated Crisial shippers, Irial frowned and murmured, "Like fuck no," while Crispin hummed 'We Wish You A Merry Christmas' behind him.  He raised his eyebrows when he spotted one asking if that was seriously a wedding ring on Cris's finger, and Irial glanced back at Crispin who raised his eyebrows at Irial who simply shook his head and said, "You're a moron."   

Crispin leaned forward and read the question quickly before gaping and blushing, shrugging sheepishly, "She thinks we should play virtual 'I never'."   

"Holy fuck, that's a _thing_?"  Irial asked excitedly before bursting out laughing, "Do we hang out in each other's beds a lot?  Do we, Crispin?"   

"A fair bit," Crispin admitted innocently, "I like to cuddle, and Irial doesn't mind."   

And with that pronouncement, Crispin gave himself tacit permission to wrap Irial in a tight hug, half-pulling him onto his lap, and Irial tossed him a disgruntled look but only shifted and got comfortable before continuing, "Favorite song right now?"   

"Someone, Some

where by Asking Alexandria."   

"That's depressing.  Hold On We're Going Home by Drake," Irial smirked while Crispin scoffed.   

"Least favorite band?  I have one," Crispin said, voice full of annoyance.   

"Don't hate on Blood On the Dance Floor or I will so go there with Black Veil Brides," Irial warned.   

Crispin scowled, "Okay, next question, then, we hardly want to get into a fight about music over this live stream.  It usually devolves into name-calling, cd throwing, and the occasional dramatic storm out, mostly by Iri, but still."   

Irial coughed in disbelief and tossed Crispin a look, "Me?  I'm not the music snob, princess."  Crispin flicked Irial's arm, and Irial wiggled in his hold and smacked his cheek lightly, both of them sticking their tongues out at each other before Irial devolved into laughter, "We're so immature.  Alright, what's the worst job we've ever had...oh my god..."   

"This one," Crispin stage-whispered, eyes wide as he nodded.   

Irial rolled his eyes, "Oh yeah, singing and performing is such a hardship.  _You_ never had to work at a coffee shop.  It was _terrible_."   

"You poor baby," Crispin deadpanned before bursting out laughing and pointing out the comment to Irial.   

'Can you kiss...please?'   

"We _could_ ," Irial shrugged, grinning.   

Crispin, still laughing, shook his head, "Um...no, we couldn't."   

"Joy-kill, honestly," I

rial said with feigned exasperated, and Crispin tapped his fingers on Irial's side pointedly, ducking his head in Irial's shoulder like he was trying to hide his laughter while actually pressing a kiss to Irial's shoulder.  "Alright," Irial continued unsteadily while Crispin hooked his chin over Irial's shoulder, grinning when he saw the comment about how cute they were, "what's the most romantic thing that you could do for someone you love?"  There was a pause before Irial grinned and declared, "Food!"   

Scoffing, Crispin looked at him sideways, "How do you have a boyfriend?"   

"I'm beautiful," Irial deadpanned while Crispin shot him a supremely skeptical expression.  "Shut up you tit, you love me."   

"McDonalds, that's our favorite place to eat, I don't want to hear what Irial has to say about it, all the best things have happened at McDonalds...Club Deccord doesn't have food," Crispin declared suddenly.   

Irial blinked at him taken aback, "Alright...my drunken confession and our sort-of friendship reestablishment over gross coffee and cold fries count as 'best things'?"   

Smirking, Crispin nodded, "Yes."   

Irial side-eyed him before saying quickly, "I'll just let you have that one."  A question caught his eye, and he beamed, "Who gave you all the hickeys, Crispin?  Inquiring minds want to know."   

Tossing him a droll look, Crispin said blandly, "The dog...coolest place we've ever been to together?"   

"Yellowstone," Crispin answered the same time Irial declared, "Leeds."   

Crispin quirked an eyebrow, "Yellowstone."   

"Leeds..."  

 

"Yellowstone."   

"Leeds."   

Whining, Crispin blurted, "Fuck, Iri, Yellowstone because _reasons_."   

Pausing, Irial grinned and cocked his head at Crispin, laughing slightly and biting his lip, "Oh yeah...Yellowstone, then, what can I say?  He has a hard-on for camping."   

Crispin scoffed and murmured, "Yeah, _that's_ what I have a hard-on for."   

"Our favorite reality television show?  Like, to watch together, because there's a lot," Irial said, reading the question and frowning at the one right after it for only a moment before Crispin blurted:   

"Sterek."   

Irial shot him a quick look and glance back at the screen to find the comment he'd responded to already going on away, a blessing since the 'If Crisial is real say the name of a famous slash ship'...oddly specific and probably something they should stay away from; Irial understood and was slightly warmed by Crispin's need to reach out and let people know that they weren't delusional for believing that Irial and Crispin were in a relationship.  He tossed him a lifeline, "Teen Wolf is not 'reality'?"   

"Yes it is, and it doesn't even matter.  I ship them so hard; Sterek is going to be real, it's going to happen."   

"Dream on," Irial s

hook his head, "Derek Hale is only attracted to psychopaths and serial killers, which Stiles Stilinski is most definitely not...favorite tattoo?  Oh shit...I don't know, do you have one, Crispin?"   

"My new one?  I always love my new ones most," Crispin admitted, shifting Irial off his lap to point to his new ship tattoo...which was actually a replica of the Black Pearl dusted in a layer of golden fairy dust and with a rope thrown off the side that disappeared into the water and lacking a steering wheel because Irial was wearing it...but whatever, no one need to know that.   

Irial cuffed Crispin in the back of the head when the question 'are some of those pics on Irial's Tumblr the two of you', and Crispin gave a pleased little smile and a little half-shrug before raising his eyebrows at another question, "What do our tattoos mean?  _All_ of them?  That's an awful lot to go through."   

'Are they _really_ couples tattoos?'  Crispin and Irial shared a grin and shook their heads but avoided the question; not _all_ of them.  Irial frowned and looked to a too-innocent Crispin.

 **Cris-tmas Princess (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@DorianII do you love me best? #dorianstream   

Rolling his eyes, Irial tugged on Crispin's hair, "Yeah, you're my favorite, princess."   

Crispin beamed brightly and hide his face in Irial's back.  _Of course._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stassi the Australian Shepherd. And Junebug the Bengal cat...because the world just needs a hearty dosage of cuteness.


	50. "Hannah" Ray LaMontagne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Cris...he really has the worst luck with interviews.

**Crisial Updates (@CrisialUpdates)**  
@breakingfourth brought in the New Year partying it up in NYC and guess who else was there....:D  
  
 **Breaking Fourth brings in the new year with a bang**  
After their incredible show in Times Square, you'd think the seven year old boyband would show signs of slowing down, but, nope.  They kicked off the new year by Micah Cross announcing his engagement to girlfriend, Cheryl Atterberry (aka Cherrie Taylor), and picking up two Grammys: song of the year for 'Lighthouse' and best record for 'The Best Part', then celebrated with fellow winners and nominees at the after party.  Nothing scandalous about that, right?  Except one such boybander taking some interesting body shots off his bestie who's supposed to be in London, then later getting caught being a little too handsy with him on the dance floor.  We're still doubtful on the whole 'Crisial' angle, but with these two, who's to say?  
  
 **Tumblr Post: crispinandirial**  
 **Newest Tats**  
Can we just talk about their newest round of tattoos?  It happened right before the Brit Awards (after that interesting Crisial after party). Cris got a dandelion whose pollen frond things morph into sparrows, and Irial got 'Serendipity' (the first thing Cris hashtagged to Irial and where they flew out to for Valentine's day to eat in Las Vegas) just under his collarbone.  Let's also not forget when Irial wrote 'someday' on Cris's arm during their adorable Christmas twitcam and Cris got it tattooed the day after when Irial, Harry, and Rosie went to get the Mdx school crest.  #justsaying  
  
To: crossesoflead@gmail.com.uk; mustlovedogs@gmail.com.uk; djkinsey@gmail.com.uk; chriscrossedmicah@gmail.com.uk  
From: sawyer.ashton@dissidentmanagement.org.uk  
Subject: Movie  
Boys,  
Congratulations on the win at the Brit Awards. It's been almost seven years, and we know you were reluctant about it before, but we'd like to broach the idea of doing a movie.  Let the fans get a behind the scenes look at your lives, the upcoming tour, and the like, as minimally invasive as possible.  
Think about it and let me know,  
Ashton Sawyer  
Dissident Management  
  
To: sawyer.ashton@dissidentmanagement.org.uk  
Cc: chriscrossedmicah@gmail.com.uk; djkinsey@gmail.com.uk; crossesoflead@gmail.com.uk  
From: mustlovedogs@gmail.com.uk  
Subject: RE: Movie  
Ashton,  
The problem we find with this is how much lying we'd have to do.  It couldn't possibly be minimally invasive in Cris and Irial's life because they have a life together, or even Cheryl and Micah's because they'd have eight years of history to hide. We're extremely uncomfortable with this idea at this time, and, until further notice, the answer remains no.  
Breaking Fourth via Benjamin Irving

* * *

"You just released the first single off your _seventh_ album; I mean, first did you boys ever expect you'd be _this_ big for _this_ long?"   

Benji raised his eyebrows and looked at the rest of the boys sitting on the couch, and Cris smirked at him and shook his head while Benji asked, "Did we expect to last this long?"   

"Well, Cris quite wants us to become the Backstreet Boys," Micah chuckled.  Cris grinned and shrugged while Dominic giggled into Cris's shoulder.  Micah rolled his eyes but answered, "No.  It all just sort of happened...and never really stopped.  We had the first album and suddenly we were _huge_.  I think we all kept expecting it to go away and for everything to calm down and stop, but it never did really.  If anything I think we got _more_ popular not less as the years went on, which is crazy but also really exciting."   

Jessie Abrams, their interviewer for the day, blinked at Micah and nodded, sharp dresser and a seasoned professional at giving interviews if her cool, detached, but quick witted, fiery demeanor was anything to go by.  Cris liked to think he too was a seasoned pro at _being_ interviewed, but, like with their massive fanbase and the feeling of being on stage, he kind of felt like each time was the first time, which might be a part of why management hated him so very much.   

Nodding politely, Jessie trucked on, "Your seventh album, 'Agree to Disagree', comes out in five days on March 17th, but you released your first single off the album, 'Meant to Be', two weeks ago and had a controlled leak of some of the songs off the album, right?"   

Everyone nodded, and Micah poked Dominic's dimpled cheek, "It was Nic's, really."   

"Preemptive strike," Dominic remarked proudly while Cris snickered into his palm and Benji looked heavenward.  Micah just seemed amused with the level of hubris Dominic had managed to inject those two words with.   

Jessie laughed politely, and Cris raised his eyebrows at Harry standing off camera who just shrugged and rolled his eyes.  She cleared her throat with the delicacy of some noble calling attention to herself before a dinner party speech, "'Meant To Be' is the first single to be released off your album, fair to say probably not the last—"   

"Probably not," Benji deadpanned.   

"—it's an interesting song, especially as far as love songs go.  What exactly do you boys, as you wrote it, consider it to be about?"   

"Yeah, Crispin," Micah said while Cris tossed him a look that could peel paint.  Dominic wilted between them, "what's the single about?"   

Benji sniggered, and Cris elbowed him sharply in the side while Ashton motioned for them to cut it out.  Daniel motioned for _someone other than_ Cris to talk, but Harry nodded at him once.   

"'Meant To Be' wasn't supposed to be about just being in the honeymoon stages of being in love.  I mean, let's be honest, love _isn't_ blind.  It's not about worshipping someone for all the good things and their virtues; it's about recognizing the person you love has flaws that clash with yourself and your own but recognizing that those differences that sort of um..."   

"Rub you the wrong way?" Dominic offered with a smirk.   

Ashton shot Dominic a poisonous glare while Cris tossed him a genial smile and hummed thoughtfully, "Decidedly not."   

"Cause internal friction?" Benji shot.   

Harry quirked an eyebrow and gave Micah a pointed look to salvage the conversation as Ashton just turned red with fury.  Cris beamed smugly, "Well, _that's_ forward."   

"Create a clash of personalities, yeah?  Like how Cheryl's so _blunt_ about _everything_ , and I cringe half the time she starts talking in public?"  Micah commented lightly.   

Cris saw Harry pin him with a stern look, "Yeah, definitely, that those differences that cause clashes are also what makes you so perfect for each other."  

"Bit of yin and yang," Micah slid in smoothly, smiling calmly while Cris stiffened and peeked over at him.  Dominic was laughing so hard that he buried his face into Cris's shoulder, body shaking from the silent peels of laughter.  Arsehole.   

Their interviewer looked genuinely impressed, a gleam in her eye that made Cris uncomfortable, though; Jessie nodded and leaned forward, "That's beautiful.  And, naturally, leads me into my next question that every girl in the world wants to know."   

"I highly doubt _that_ ," Benji drawled.   

Cris shrugged, "Right, I feel Ariella really has no desire to know the boys' relationship statuses."   

" _I'm singggglllllleeee oooooohhhhhhh! Right now! That's how I waaant to be!_ " Dominic sang cheerfully, beaming while Cris and Micah shared a long-suffering look.   

"Natasha Bedingfield, really?" Cris shook his head.   

Micah just gave Dominic a skeptical look, "How successful are you in you career, again?"   

"Hey!" Dominic protested.   

"Don't quit your day job," Benji joked while Dominic pouted.   

Jessie raised her eyebrows, " _Are_ you?"   

"Me?  No," Dominic beamed brightly, shaking his head and ruffling the quiff he'd only recently taken a liking to, "I'm quite contently in a relationship with the most abusive—"   

"I'd watch it if I were you," Cris pointed out, smiling.   

"I mean, _lovely_ woman on the face of planet Earth!"  Dominic laughed and shrugged, "Bev and I, in all seriousness, are happily being happy together for a little over a year now.  It'll be interesting to see what happens to our relationship when we're on tour since we've never really had to deal with the long-distance thing before since we had last year...not _off_ but not _on tour_ , so...I don't know.  She's brilliant and we're good together so, we'll see I guess."   

Jessie nodded, "Good luck to you two, and I know I speak for everyone who knows who Beverly Dixon is that we're all so excited for Yin and Yang bar to open.  It's an interesting concept."   

Dominic glanced over at management while Cris froze.  Harry shook his head, and Dominic just smiled thinly, keeping his mouth shut about how Cris and Irial were two of her major investors and business partners who'd also helped her create the concept when she'd confessed how much she wanted to open a bar but wasn't sure of much beyond that.  Irial was just excited to have another bar closer to their house in Primrose Hill like it was the middle of nowhere and not a fifteen minute walk from their house.  _Drama queen_ , but Cris adored him.   

"What about you, Benji?"  Jessie raised her eyebrows, "It's been awhile since your split from Penney Dear, but there have been rumors about getting back together.  Any truth in those?"   

Benji laughed genuinely and shook his head, "No, no, Penney and I are just good friends.  She's trying to convince me to go vegan with very little success."   

"It's not like _she's_ the best vegan that ever lived," Dominic whined while Benji laughed and nodded.   

"I'm just trying out being single for awhile, I think, focusing on music.  Cris and...." Ashton glowered furiously at Benji who tapered off automatically, "Cris has been having me over to teach me piano.  Soren Reid and his song writing partner-in-crime, Rosie Ireland, have been giving me guitar lessons.  And, actually, GQ asked me to do a spread," the boys hooted and clapped, ribbing him playfully while Benji rolled his eyes, "I've been _dating_ but nothing serious by any means."   

Jessie nodded and turned to Micah, and Cris frowned, looking over to Harry who raised an eyebrow, shrugging Cris's look and visibly as unsettled as Cris _felt_.  Micah raised his eyebrows at Jessie while Benji and Dominic shared a look of dread, trying and failing to be discreet as Cris sat _directly_ between them, "Now, Micah, I hear you're engaged to Dorian Speaks's Cherrie Taylor."   

Micah smiled shyly and nodded, "Yeah, it was time."   

"And when's the wedding?"  Jessie pried, eyes sparkling.   

"Next year, actually, in the spring."   

"Big wedding?  Small wedding?"   

Benji shook his head discreetly while Dominic and Cris quirked an eyebrow at her, annoyed at how much prying the woman had the audacity to try before she realized she was crossing so many lines of privacy; Micah took it all with good grace, "Big wedding, definitely, our whole community and families are going to be there, and the boys, and it's...yeah, _big_."   

"Decided on a best man yet?"    

Micah smiled wanly, "They'll be the first to know."   

He effectively shut down the conversation, and Jessie nodded, reverting back to her too polite reporter mindset, "You'll be the first of the boys to be married, though, congrats."   

All of the boys stiffened, and Cris looked down at his hands, twisting the ring on his middle finger and biting the inside of his cheek, willing himself not to react, which might have become s tangible reaction all in its own.  Benji cracked his knuckles, and Dominic leaned more heavily into Cris's side.  Bracing himself for Micah to be the beautiful PR angel that he was, Cris looked up to find Harry frowning, thoughtful, before he darting towards one of the production assistants, asking for her papers.   

"Will I?"  Micah hummed thoughtfully but giving Jessie a dismissive smile that promised he wouldn't be talking about what he meant anytime in the near future.   

Harry gaped at something on the papers, looking up to meet Cris's gaze, shaking his head and opening his mouth to say something when Jessie said his name, receiving his automatic attention, "You just recently broke up with your girlfriend—"   

Cris eyed her skeptically, "I don't know if November of last year is considered 'recent'.  It's been almost four months, which was about as long as we spent private, companionable time together in the first place."   

"Not still broken up about it, then?"   

 _I never_ was, Cris thought to himself with an internal eye roll and sigh.  He chose to just smile politely, "No, not at all."   

"December you were with Willamina, and I know your shippers were going crazy about that."   

"Which shippers?" Dominic muttered.   

Micah laughed, and Cris tilted his head in silent acknowledgement, a wry smile curling the end of his lips.  Benji hid his smile behind his hand; Jessie continued on, and Cris grew more and more tense with every moment that passed, "But since then, we've only really seen you and your best mate, Irial Dorian.  So, no girls?"   

Cris nodded slowly, carefully, glancing over at Ashton while Harry talked in heated, angry whispers to Daniel, "There hasn't been."   

Take from that what you will.   

"There's this whole faction of the fandom who feels really strongly in this 'Crisial' phenomenon."   

"I've heard."   

 _Someone fucking save me._   Cris was so still that his muscles physically ached from the attempt to sit so still.   

"Bromance," Dominic sing-songed.   

"The Crisial shippers say that they have pictures of the two if you kissing," Jessie said flatly.  The entire sofa grew still and icy.   

Micah raised his eyebrows, shooting a glance towards management as he said, "That's not unusual.  Our fans are abnormally good with photoshop, aren't they?"   

Benji nodded as did Cris, slowly, pointedly, almost painfully.  _NotalieNotalieNotalie...not yet._   Dominic huffed out a laugh, "Yeah, yeah, I've seen some pretty wild edits of Cris and Me over the years.  Impressive, really."   

"So these aren't pictures of you and Irial kissing?"  Jessie asked, pulling out an _actual_ _fucking magazine_ open to a page full of shots of Cris and Irial kissing.  He gaped for a minute because _where the actual fuck did people_ get _these_.  His heart was pounding against his ribs, speedily like he'd just run a marathon; it took a split second to realize that only a couple of them were genuine images of Irial and him, which also threw him more than the photoshopped ones.  _How the hell did those get out?_

Cris shook his head slowly, unable to tear his gaze away from the pictures as he said, "That's photoshopped."   

He could feel Ashton killed him with his eyes, but...seriously, was this management PR 101?  He felt like fucking Harry Styles; how was this _even_ his life?   

"So you've never kissed Irial?"  Jessie pressed, eyebrows raised.   

Dominic dug his fingers into Cris's leg while Benji murdered the floor with his eyes.  Micah was still and impassive, but Cris could _feel_ how irate he was.  Slowly, Cris just shook his head, blinking and trying to remember how to _breathe_ properly and _why_ murder wasn't an option.   

Jessie wasn't done with him yet, "Nothing's going on between you two?"   

Cris steeled himself, knowing there was simply no other option than to lie, "No," Cris muttered tonelessly, "we're best mates; there's nothing going on between us."   

_And I want to shrivel up in a deep, dark corner somewhere and just die.  I want to drown management in a vat of toxic waste.  I want scream and cry and dance on the graves of everyone who thought this was a good idea.  I fucking want Irial, and no one will just fucking let me have him._

Micah and Benji jumped in while Dominic laughed a little too sharply and thinly, throwing an arm around Cris's shoulders.  They finished the interview in record time, and Cris managed to smile, laugh weakly and hollowly, and hold himself together through the rest, but he wasn't really _there_ , had checked out completely and zoned out so that he didn't starting sobbing in a live interview with a limited but still _present_ studio audience.  He felt gutted and raw, torn and shredded and cold and empty and hollow and disgusting, covered in a layer of grime, dirt, and _filth_ so thick that he'd never be able to scrub the shame away completely.   

Harry was irate and had spent the last half of the interview bickering in hushed voices with Ashton and Daniel with _zero_ concern for their location.   

And the boys were sympathetic and empathetic and furious and _trying_ to take the attention off of Cris who just _couldn't_ pretend not to care or feel like shit.  And as soon as the cameras went off, and Jessie hopped off her chair, offering Cris an apologetic smile that just made his stomach churn, Cris was up and moving _somewhere_ but he didn't get _anywhere_ really before he'd started crying, collapsing against the wall with his legs pulled up to his chest.  Dominic reached him first, just dropping beside him and wrapping his arms around him while Micah squatted in front of him, hands on his knees and murmuring about how everything was going to be okay and things would get better and the boys were sorry and he didn't have to _do_ this if he _couldn't_.  Benji just stood, a silent, protective beside them all, glaring at management to keep them from approaching, leg pressed against Cris's side to let him know he was there.   

Pissed and talking lowly on his bluetooth while texting (probably Irial), Harry glanced over at the boys, met Cris's eyes apologetically, and stormed out of the studio.  Ashton just shared a satisfied look with Daniel who nodded.  Cris brushed the tears from his eyes and focused on breathing, taking the strength his best friends were offering because what the fuck else were his options?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like One Direction, you absolutely know what this chapter was inspired by. Look, regardless of whether or not you're a Larry shipper, Harry Styles is a) the worst liar on the face of the planet (who the fuck gets told: "I've got pictures of you kissing your bff" and then he stares at them for like days before saying in a daze and blinking a mile a minute "They're photoshopped"?) and b) the least subtle person on the planet (see parentheses on part a). I feel the way I feel about this so if you're not into the Larry thing...that's fine. But regardless, Harry was still sketch as all get out. Also, I do not understand these celebrity movies (mostly because I don't find any celebrity interesting enough or worthy enough to take up my time and money to see their staged private lives) but most musicians with large teen followings (read: Miley Cyrus as Hannah Montana or whatever, Justin Bieber, One Direction etcetera) tend to make them... -.-


	51. "Can't Remember to Forget You" Shakira

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their friends go all mob wives up on this bitch to find a solution to their problems while Irial an Cris vacation with Hawaii 5-0...sort of.

**Asa loves Crissy (@Asa_micasa)**  
Can we all stop with the #crisial bullshit now that @Cris_Emerson denied it? Thanks  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
"Everything popular is wrong." Oscar Wilde  
  
 **RT by @CrisialUpdates**  
 **Breaking Fourth (@breakingfourth)**  
Agree to Disagree is now out on iTunes :D  
  
 **Crisial Updates (@CrisialUpdates)**  
If you don't believe 'The Haves', 'Meant To Be', 'You Are', and 'Stay' are about #Crisial there's no hope for you  
  
To: mustlovedogs@gmail.com.uk; chriscrossedmicah@gmail.com.uk; djkinsey@gmail.com.uk; rosieireland@gmail.com; cherrietayberry@gmail.com.uk; owlguardiansoren@gmail.com.uk; dearpenney@gmail.com.uk; beverlydixon703@gmail.com.uk; miranda2nite@gmail.com.uk; angus.murdoch.123198@gmail.com.uk  
From: haroldpotter6999@gmail.com  
Subject: URGENT FUCKING OPEN IT  
Our favorite sort of closeted boys are taking a four day vacay for Irial's birthday to head down to Hawaii and go wander around their annual hula festival thing...whatever, don't care, that's not the reason behind the mass group email.  I'm assuming we all saw that disastrous interview that Dissident royally screwed where Cris lied and cried and ended up being attached to Irial for three days, which included him following and sitting in studio like the puppy he is and basically being covered in lovebites and wearing Irial's clothes.  Unacceptable.  We're done. I don't think Cris can handle another year of this. We all need to have a sit down once they leave and discuss this. Rosie has been talking to a contract lawyer. I've been going over options and plans. We all need to weigh in on this.  Friday, April 27 meet up at 20:00 at that amazing Italian restaurant on Primrose Hill by the pub and the gelato shop ready to work shit out. We have a reservation under 'Operation Out'...kidding it's under Rosie Ireland because...reasons.  
Harry  
  
 **Breaking Fourth (@breakingfourth)**  
Thank you so much for making our album #1 in over 30 countries #weloveyou #MassiveThanks  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
Going to HAWAII!!!!!!!!!! Whoooooooo....anyway, there will be vlogs since I'll be off air Thurs and Fri #BestBoyfriend #BeJelly  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
Took almost 4yrs but I joined the Mile High Club #MileHighClub #FantasticShagging

* * *

Rosie felt like a fucking spy...or an episode of Mob Wives...or an actual member of the mob being surveilled by the FBI.  Seriously, this shit was ridiculous...but it hadn't stopped her from pulling out the gorgeous Christian Loubatins Dominic and Cris had bought her for her birthday last year and her fantastic trench coat that Irial had gotten her for Christmas saying, "I know you have delusions of awesomeness."   

As she crossed street to the fancy Italian restaurant that knew almost everyone in their party by _name_ since they tended to have their extended band bonding nights there, Rosie exuded awesomeness with zero sarcasm intended.  The woman was twenty-four with dangerous curves and her wild waves of waist length red hair swishing along in a high ponytail.  Her dark wash super skinny jeans were practically molded to her legs, the heels clicked on the pavement, and even the cashmere sweater she was wearing under her mid-calf length trench coat was sexy.  Rosie pulled off the Gucci sunglasses she'd stolen from Benji ages ago as she walked into the restaurant.   

The host smiled at her, "Ms. Ireland!  You party's in the back."   

"Thanks, James," Rosie smiled at him gratefully, giving him a peck on the cheek as she strolled through the restaurant and into the back where everyone invited already had arrived, sitting around the table and munching on the copious amount of appetizers laid out for options.  As she waltzed into the room, Harry looked up and grinned at her, she mirrored the expression automatically, pulling off her coat and walking over to the empty seat beside him and collapsing into it with a sigh of, "Christ, I feel like a fucking criminal."   

"You?"  Harry scoffed, "What about _me_?"   

"What _about_ you?" Miranda pointed at him and raised her eyebrows.   

Harry smiled innocently at her and shrugged, reading her loud and clear.  Some people had more to lose by being here than others.  He threw an arm around Rosie's shoulders, and she leaned into him automatically, stealing his wine glass and taking a whiff of it being tasting it.  His eyes smiled at her while Rosie asked, "Bordeaux?"   

"My favorite," Harry responded, kissing her cheek.   

"Calamari?"   

"Naturally," he pointed further down the table, holding his hand out for someone to pass it to him.   

"You're brilliant."   

"I know."   

"Sorry I'm late," a new voice said, slightly out of breath, and everyone looked up to find Brandon Greer, flushed and windblown standing in the doorway.   

Silence descended around the table, and Rosie sighed, "I invited him."   

Everyone except Harry turned to look at her—glare or balk more like—and she simply rolled her eyes and shrugged, "I have a _job_.  _Someone_ had to do the leg work for this recon shit, and it wasn't going to be _me_.  Plus, Harry was busy keeping _you_ ," she pointed at the three popstars, "little shits out of trouble."   

Micah blushed and raised his glass at Brandon, "Cheers, mate, we'll try not to let Cris's absolutely loathing for you influence us."   

"Especially since it's only because you shagged his fiancé!" Cheryl called.   

" _Broke_ his _heart_ ," Rosie mumbled while Brandon blinked at everyone before shrugging and hauling ass to sit over beside Soren.  Everyone munched on their appetizers, chatting amicably until the waitress came to get their dinner orders; Rosie _really_ appreciated her choice in friends.  Even Penney, the sole vegan at the table, could eat her weight in gelato and rolls; it was nice that during a meeting to discuss how to screw their management, everyone could chat and eat beforehand like this was some sort of round table dinner party instead of some fucked up music mafia meeting.   

When the waitress disappeared, everyone fell silent, turning to Harry and Rosie whilst still munching on appetizers—she _seriously_ loved these people; he nodded, "We all know why we're here."   

"Management is old-fashioned, douchebag, homophobic twats stuck in the 60s and all set to stone Cris and Irial if they thought they could get away with it?"  Dominic suggested.   

"Two minutes away from giving Cris electroshock therapy so he can be the wholesome, blue-collar hetero they pretend he is?"  Rosie offered.   

"We're breaking their contract, right?"  Miranda asked.   

"Or at least, _trying_ to?" Micah pushed.   

Harry nodded and pursed his lips, "All of the above."  He leaned back in his seat and studied the rest of the table before focusing on Dominic, Micah, and Benji with an intensity that made them all cringe back in their seats, "Have any of you ever seen the contract Cris signed?"  

They shook their heads slowly while Harry nodded and went on, "Essentially, it did two things that made this situation as fucked up as it is: it gave Dissident an unprecedented amount of control over Cris's image and it gave them enough leverage over him to ensure that he wouldn't break it no matter how much he _wanted_ to.  Now, what Cris _said_ he was told when they presented this to him—"   

"Without his guardians present," Rosie reminded Harry.   

Harry nodded, "Without his guardians present when he was a fifteen year old minor was that this contract was for them to set him up on PR dates when they felt it necessary to cultivate his image—"   

"As a playboy?"   

"And manwhore?"   

"Slag?"   

"Slut?"   

"Womanizer."   

People reacted while Rosie rolled her eyes and shrugged, "Hello, people, they never said _what_ image they were cultivating."   

"Doesn't look like they _cared_ as long as it was a heterosexual one," Penney pointed out while sucking the cheese out of a mozzarella stick...weird.   

Rosie leaned over and whispered to Brandon and Soren, "Can vegans eat cheese?"   

Soren quirked an eyebrow and cocked his head curiously while Brandon smirked and shook his head, "Not from what I recall."   

Nodding to herself, Rosie hummed thoughtfully, "Just checking."   

Her phone blared, and Rosie pulled it out and grinned at both the test message and the Tweet from Irial.

**Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
Little scared to surf since all I can think about is Surf's Up...i don't want a penguin to pee on me #Ew #HowAboutNo #JustLetMeDieByPoison  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris Emerson)**  
@DorianII man up and get in the water #WhatAreTheChances #YoureInHawaii #SuckItUp   

Her boys were adorable...and surfing at ten in the morning...was that _normal_?  Whatever, who cared?  Not her.  The most extreme Rosie got when it came to sports was horseback riding where she could trust more than her own skill, luck, and Mother Nature, that jealous, bipolar bitch who was just always on the fucking rag... _surfing_...

**Irial:** idk what you and harry r up to...but i know ur up to something

**Rosie** : eating dinner and breaching mgmt contracts ;)

**Irial:** dont think ur kidding tho -_-

**Rosie:** fuck ur boy on the beach and enjoy hawaii whore

**Irial:** already did...and went skinny dipping...but fine   

Setting her cell phone on the table, Rosie crossed her arms over her chest and raised her eyebrows when she found everyone staring at her; she tried to look as innocuous as possible, but Harry rested his hand on the nape of her neck and squeezed, letting her know that no one believed her act.  Rosie sighed and deflated, "Well Iri knows."   

Everyone groaned.   

"Did he tell Cris?"  Beverly asked, and there wasn't a single person in the room that didn't look at her like she suddenly sprouted a second head, a third tit, and wings.  She pursed her lips and shrank back in her seat while Dominic kissed her temple.   

"Did he tell Cris?" Soren scoffed.   

"They have like some weird twin telepathy bullshit," Dominic confided.   

Soren quirked an eyebrow at him at Cheryl threw a roll him.  Rosie rolled her eyes, but Brandon was the one that deadpanned, "Or _excellent_ communication...I don't know."   

Dominic flipped him off playfully, and the table laughed.  Angus continued, "Cris might not _know_ —"   

"—but if _Iri_ knows _something_ , then Cris probably guessed and didn't say anything," Rosie finished while Harry nodded.   

"It doesn't matter.  Irial won't interfere, and Cris will play dumb because he knows that's why Irial hasn't brought it up," Harry informed everyone.   

"They're fucking adorable," Cheryl said, grimacing.   

Rosie laughed, "I know.  It's gross."   

"Any. Way," Harry pressed through clenched teeth, and everyone held up their hands, shutting up and letting him speak, "He was also told that it stipulated that he wouldn't come out."   

"But that's not _everything_ was it?" Micah asked.   

"What was the penalty if he _did_ ," Miranda asked.   

Harry nodded, "Everything they told him was a half-truth—"   

Shaking her head, Rosie finally got what the hell Irial was always bitching about when he talked about evasion and omission as being lies to, "Lies of omission..."   

"Exactly," Harry nodded, "they never _lied_.  The lawyer supposed to help him understand the contract never _lied_ , he just never elaborated, which is _why_ we're all sitting here.  The penalty was a breach of contract, which means he can be sued...but it goes a little further than that: they'll sue you and Cris will lose _everything_."   

Everyone shared uneasy looks over the table, "By _everything_ , you mean—?"   

"He means there's a reason Irial hasn't pushed Dissident just to see how far he _can_ ," Rosie answered honestly.   

"And the _actual_ contract stipulations?" Micah pressed.   

"Cris was under the impression that it extended to PR dates, not outing his relationship with Luke Henry, his ex, and discretion," Harry shrugged, popping one of Rosie's calamari into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully, "but, obviously, it goes further than that.  He's contractually obligated to fall in line with _any_ of their PR public image plans as long as they're not illegal or immoral—"   

"Which has a _very loose_ definition," Brandon pointed out.   

Harry nodded, "He literally _cannot_ confirm a same sex relationship, discuss one with the press, or come out, and can be held accountable if his significant other does with full knowledge of the stipulations of the contract."   

The whole table went silent until Dominic drawled, "So, when we all suffered through that four month break up...Iri could have outed the whole thing with no penalty to Cris or us?"   

Rosie pursed her lips, teeth clenched angrily as she downed all her wine, not even wincing as it burned her throat.  She _hated_ the music industry, _hated_ this whole scenario and fucking management and Ashton and Daniel, and if she had to burn Dissident to the ground to get her best friend out of this mess, she surely would.   

Having moved past his irritation and fury, Harry shrugged, "Yes."  And awkward silence descended, and Harry moved on, "He also can't Tweet, discuss, pin and post any images that have a connection to his relationship, but management has been _incredibly_ lenient as far as that goes, mostly because they had been just as disbelieving of the hype when Irial and Cris were busy making their sex-charged Twitter banter their trademark."   

Rosie cocked her head, "And they can delete their Tweets."   

"That too," Harry replied.   

The table fell silent, and it took a moment of everyone digested this mess of a situation before the four boys put their heads close together; Benji lifted his head first and asked, "So what do we _do?_   Cris is going to lose it.  He already threatened out once."   

"Exactly," Soren pointed out, "I know the boys only have a year left on their contract, a little more, maybe, since they signed in August, but Cris may just snap before that, and what are the chances their next management will be any more open to entertaining the idea of a boyband member coming out?"   

The table shifted restlessly, and Rosie looked at Harry who sat up straighter in his chair, glancing over at Rosie and smirked, "We control the narrative."   

"How?  It's not like _we_ can do anything, right?"  Micah asked while Dominic and Benjig glared at him, and Cheryl raised her eyebrows at her fiancé, pointing her butter knife in his direction and raising her eyebrows in a way that clearly said he did not want to fuck with her about Cris and Irial.  Micah held his hands up innocently, "I'm not trying to think like _management,_ but, seriously, if they have Cris by the balls, what's the chances our contracts aren't just as airtight?"   

"Nothing's _airtight,"_ Brandon scoffed knowingly.   

"Can _we_ just _break_ the contract and out them?" Dominic probed.   

"No," Harry said decisively, "it doesn't matter how popular you are, how much money you bring in.  You'll be blacklisted.  No management company will touch a band willing to break a billion dollar management contract, especially over an issue as small—to management agencies—as sexuality, and, even if they were willing to overlook your spotty history, they'll be dealing with a recently outed boybander _and_ a lawsuit.  No one will go there."   

"No one else here can do it either," Brandon drawled before anyone could ask.  "We're all too closely connected so it'll link back to us, drag everyone else into this mess.  Half of you work for Dissident and will end up penniless, destitute, and begging for moldy sandwiches in the Red Light district.  Soren and Penney's own management will have their heads and execute stricter control over them; the industry is a fucking _fortress,_ and they're all in it together.  You can't just break the contract and no one else can either."   

"Here's the problem," Harry said, deciding to just stop besting around the bush, "Ariella, two of Irial's sisters, and Rosie have agreements to deny, deny, _deny...but_ no one else here does.  Everyone else here has contracts that can't be broken, or paychecks that need to pay bills.  So, back to Rosie's idea of controlling the narrative while Rosie's lawyer friend works on logistics.  Right now, management is being an illusionist with public perception, but we need to shatter the illusion.  No more misdirections, but all within the rules of the game.  Part of why people are so vehemently against Cris being gay for Iri is that Iri supposedly has a boyfriend of three years that _isn't_ Cris and Cris is a womanizer.  Everyone's confused.  We need to clear the water so people can have a comprehensive picture of just _who_ they are and how often they're together, not guestimation based off of timelines, voices in Keek videos, or sketch sightings.  We basically have to confirm all of the Crisial shipper speculation."   

"But I thought—?" Cheryl began hesitantly, frowning.   

Harry turned to Rosie who smirked at him before looking out over the table, "Beverly and Cheryl will do most of the heavy lifting since they're girlfriends of the band and can get away with 'well fuck we didn't know' much better than everyone else.  Soren too.  Obviously Miranda and Angus are going to be delicate _if_ they participate at all.  We have to confirm without _confirming,_ slip-ups that seem random but _aren't_.  Tweets and interviews are going to be our concentration, just make the information available and let our darling 'psychotic' shippers to the rest.  We need to dismantle any footing Dissident has, which means _any_ time Irial and Cris are together, people are going to find out.  When they go off on their weird text, Tweet, radio convos, voice your frustrations.  Dinners. Skype dates during tour, _all_ of that needs to become public knowledge, but not in a way Dissident can punish for...after all it's—"   

"Just an accident," Benji nodded.   

"And the contract?" Micah pressed.   

"We're working on _how_ to get around that and push Dissident into a corner," Harry said carefully.   

Micah raised his eyebrows, "Blackmail?"   

"Incentive," Harry and Rosie corrected blandly, "and we're going to start with Hawaii, so...who wants to be the whistleblower?"  
          
 **Dominic Kinsey (@Nic_Kinsey)**  
I know @Cris_Emerson is 10hrs behind but thats no excuse #DontIgnoreMe #WhyWontYouLoveMe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just stating that my knowledge of contracts: nil. My knowledge of the music industry: nil. My business sense: nil. My common sense: nil. Anyway, this was a lot of research and assumptions.


	52. "Boom Boom Pow" Black Eyed Peas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lawyers, management, PR reps, a fiction writing, and Irial Dorian are sitting in a room...who do you think wins that fight?

**Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
So @sorensoars just licked @Cherrie_TA on a dare  >o< #notokay #sodonewithlife #firstdayback  
  
 **Micah Cross (@MC_Cross)**  
@Cris_Emerson needs to to stop txting @DorianII so we can finish filming #NotHappy  
  
 **Tumblr Post: crisialship5eva**  
 **This song though**  
Has anyone actually LISTENED to The Haves b/c the chorus 'have faith have freedom believe that prejudice will fade away. Have hope, have courage, to brave the hell of truth I cannot say. Have me have our love and pray that it will be enough' Irial has had the first part tattooed on him since AGES before this song came out. AND Nic basically confirmed Cris (not Dorian's mystery boyfriend) went to Hawaii with him...I mean come on, are they even TRYING anymore?  
 **thewanted_b4**  
That's not proof! Saying he was 10hrs behind London does not prove he was with Dorian. Neither do the 'looks', photoshopped pictures of them kissing, blurry videos, sharing clothes (which the boys admitted they all do), or Tweets. Get over yourselves. Crisial isn't real, bothers the boys AND Dorian, and is so disrespectful. Dorian has a boyfriend he loves and that Cris has said he's cool with, and Cris is STRAIGHT. Give it a fucking rest, so immature and deluded, not everything is about Crisial like way to ruin the album for me.  
 **CrisialUpdates**  
Can I just say...wtf? Firstly, being gay and in a 3 yr committed relationship is not an insult to their character. It's actually pretty complimentary since Iri was a huge manwhore three years ago and Cris supposedly still is. Very few pics are photoshopped and the ones that are are usually tagged as edits. We know not everything is about Crisial but some things are and we're just expressing our opinions. Cris never said he was cool with Dorian's bf just that he doesn't want to talk about him (his ass gets saved every time he gets asked about him). And Dorian bought Crisial and Corian shirts and told a Crisial shipper getting bullied in Seoul they both know what their relationship looks like and its fine...it doesn't bother them. Don't like it stay off our tag, thanks.  
  
 **Irish Rose (@rosieposie)**  
Interesting...my new life as a troll #smh #clueless #drama  
  
 **Soren Reid (@sorensoars)**  
@DorianII @Cris_Emerson raise some adorable pups #lmao #Marius #Stassi #cuteness  
  
 **Benji Irving (@BenjiDIrving)**  
@Cris_Emerson rehearsals are not the time to make #dorianspeaks interactive  
  
 **Cheryl Atterberry (@Cherrie_TA)**  
I was ditched for man dates...@Cris_Emerson @DorianII, these bitches...  
  
 **Beverly Dixon on her bar concept in Food & Wine**  
"...started with Cris [Emerson] and Irial [Dorian] during one of their parties.  I usually go and help them set up early, prep the bar and wet bar, and I'm ridiculously picky about all the decor.  Irial got frustrated and asked why, if I was going to be such a pain in the ass and creative snob, didn't I just open my own bar.  I said I didn't have a concept. You have to understand, both of them are fascinated by the idea of Yin and Yang, and Cris suggested it in passing when he overheard us.  It turned into us sitting in the master drinking hibiscus tea—coffee for Cris since he's a bad Englishman—during their party planning and tossing around ideas. I don't know. Now we're all partners."  
  
To: chriscrossedmicah@gmail.com.uk; djkinsey@gmail.com.uk; mustlovedogs@gmail.com.uk; crossesoflead@gmail.com.uk  
Cc: sawyer.ashton@dissidentmanagement.org.uk; sterling.harry@dissidentmanagement.org.uk  
From: george.daniel@dissidentmanagement.org.uk  
Subject: Recent Developments  
There had been an alarming amount of negligence in regards to what has recently been mentioned to the public about Cris and Dorian's friendship. We've had these discussions about maintaining vigilance and exercising good judgement when making any sort of commentary about their relationship, which extends to enlightening your girlfriends as well. I didn't think 20 yr olds needed reminders of the importance of image to your careers, but it appears you do. Watch your words and implications via Twitter or we'll be forced to return to the days of regulating your Twitters.  
Kindly,  
Daniel George  
Dissident Management  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
Forgetting that in the eyes of the authority you are a 2 yr old =\  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
May=dafuq #OnToJune  
  
 **Dominic Kinsey (@Nic_Kinsey)**  
@breakingfourth on #dorianspeaks today with @DorianII @Cherrie_TA XD

* * *

Irial was laughing and leaning into Cris and wishing that this was an informal interview because if Cris's management glared at him any harder he might _actually_ tell them to fuck off live while still on the radio.  It's like whatever no one could see them anyway, but their friends (who seemed to have forgotten the ridiculously dire need for some kind of fucking secrecy bullshit) kept letting the two of them veer off into banter that devolves into heavy handed flirting and inside jokes that may be a touch too intimate because they totally forget the world when they start talking.  It's been a weird month with all the hint-dropping, sighting confirming, and then that picture @darlingdori leaked of the pair of them in Hawaii together...which... _how the hell did they even get that?_  

"Management's saying we need to stop," Crispin whispered to Irial, lips brushing against his ear, hands entwined while Irial twisted Crispin's engagement ring around on his finger, and somehow pressing even more into Irial's personal space.   

They ignored the side-eyed looked the boys and Cheryl shot them.   

"The touching or the on-air flirting?" Irial smirked while 'The Man Who can't Be Moved' by the Script played over the radio.  Blast to the past, oddly appropriate; Irial didn't acknowledge the way Ashton and Daniel glared at them while Harry just ignored everyone, entirely checked out of the whole situation as he had been since the assholes had dive-bombed Crispin in an interview.   

Crispin smiled and pressed his lips to Irial, kissing him deeply but somehow still sweetly and lovingly, unbothered by all the other eyes in the room, murmuring against Irial's lips, "Our relationship?  But I think they'll settle for the flirting."   

"I think they'll settle for our friends ceasing trying to out us," Irial commented, quirking an eyebrow at the four of them before turning back to Crispin.  "What the hell do you think they're up to?"   

"Figured you knew and didn't want me to get involved," Crispin remarked, giving up pretenses to climb into Irial's lap, throwing his long legs over the side and leaning against Irial's chest, pressing a kiss to his jaw. 

"You don't?"   

"I suspect," Irial affirmed.   

"And?"   

" _And_ I don't want to get your hopes up, so for now I'll just keep my mouth shut and wait until they figure their shit out," Irial replied, meeting Crispin's gaze and raising his eyebrows before pecking his lips, adjusting Crispin's headphones and brushing a wayward strand of hair out if his face before focusing on the interview as the music died down.  _"Aaaaaaaaaaand_ we're back in studio with the biggest pain the—"   

"Language, fucking, language Dorian!" Cheryl snapped.   

"Twenty-four," Dominic and Crispin announced together, laughing.   

"Up goes the counter, you two aren't good at this," Benji remarked.   

Irial wrinkled his nose, "Is this a communal counter?  Can I protest how unfair that is?"   

"No elf, no one cares," Crispin chirped.   

"Aww, you made him sad!" Dominic giggled.   

"Stop pouting, mate, you're twenty-four, much too old for that sort of childishness," Micah said with feigned tsking.   

"And _you're_ twenty-five but still watch Phineas and Ferb in the evenings; don't insult my Dorian," Cheryl teased, cuffing him in the head.   

 _"My_ Dorian," Crispin murmured into Irial neck.   

Irial grinned and pressed a kiss to the too of his head, "Yeah, yeah love."  He beamed at Cheryl and said, "I vote no more popstars in studio Cheryl, what say you?"   

"That absolutely _cannot_ be instituted until I've met Union J!"   

"I'm hurt, mate," Micah said flatly while Dominic laughed.   

"He'd miss Cris too much," Dominic whispered loudly.  Crispin and Irial glanced at each other and raised their eyebrows at him while Benji and Cheryl just snorted and chuckled.  Assholes.   

"But, Cherrie," Irial whined.   

"No buts, now boys, you've all been such good sports telling us about your most recent album—"   

"In which your fiancé wrote a song about shagging you—" Irial commented.   

"Blissfully vague, though.  It _could_ have turned into 'Rock Me' or 'Sweetest Sin'."    

" _Jessica Simpson_?" Irial scoffed, "Alright, I'm pulling out Jimi Hendrix for pizza night.  No more of this Jessica Simpson nonsense."   

"—quite enough of you boys!"  Cheryl cut them off, tossing one if her Chanel heels at them; Irial squeaked and hid his face in Crispin's hair while Crispin just laughed and caught the flying projectile.  The boys clapped and cheered while kiss just beamed and offered Irial the heel.   

"I'll treasure this almost deadly Chanel heel forever, princess."   

"I'd hope so," Benji deadpanned.   

"He saved you!"  Dominic declared in a breathy voice, "How _romantic_."   

Irial quirked an eyebrow and said to Crispin, "What's wrong with him?"   

"I haven't the slightest idea; are you high?"   

Management looked ready to riot, but Cheryl just sighed and trooped on, "You can all blame Irial and Cris for why we have no time today to take questions.  We are _literally_ out of time thanks to these arseholes.  I apologize."   

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sorry," Irial sighed.  "Breaking Fourth's seventh album, Agree to Disagree came out as well as their two singles 'Meant To Be' and 'Together', both of which i'm quite taken with if you must know."   

"They don't," Crispin smirked at Irial.   

"You're _such_ a little shit, Crispin, I honestly don't know _why_ I put up with you."   

Crispin smiled wolfishly at Irial, who shook his head and pressed a quick kiss to Crispin's lips while Cheryl groaned, "Boys, can we _finish_ the announcements and end our _already late_ show?"   

"Don't know, Crispin, can I?"   

"By all means."   

"Great," Irial rolled his eyes and continued, "The video for 'Together' premieres on Vevo—"   

"We missed you!" All four boys called together, laughing.   

"—in two weeks on June 17.  Tickets for their Have Hope concert tour are already on sale...so they're probably sold out, but it never hurts to check."   

"Four months of no shagging starting July," Cheryl groaned.   

Benji snickered while Dominic remarked, "Hear that, Micah, Irial's sexiling you out of the city."   

"I hope not," Crispin said demurely, ignoring his management.   

"I don't really swing that way," Irial added.   

"And check in live stream in one hour where all six of us will be doing a twitcam as an apology for Irial and Crispin chit-chatting you out of your God-given right to interrogate all of us," Cheryl said.   

"We need to grab coffee," Benji commented.   

"Snacks!" Crispin, Irial, and Dominic cheered together before Irial laughed and shook his head, "I'm Irial Dorian."   

"I'm Cherrie Taylor."   

"And we're Breaking Fourth," they said together.   

"And this was Dorian Speaks.  We'll see you in an hour, now enjoy the dulcet fabulousness of 'Killer' by the Ready Set," Irial said while Crispin hummed the song under his breath.  Irial snorted and shoved Crispin off his lap as soon as they went off air, and he squeaked in surprise, barely catching himself on the table.  He glared at Irial who just grinned and stood up as Crispin pulled himself onto the tabletop, opening his legs so that Irial could step in between them.   

Crispin cupped Irial's face and held his gaze, silently telling him how much he loved him and enjoyed the times when they could just be the censored version of themselves, at ease with their friends, and not being yelled at...at least for the moment.  Irial pressed his lips lightly against Crispin, aiming for a peck, but Crispin's hands quickly latched onto Irial's hair holding him still and pressing their lips together fiercely, licking into his mouth and taking control of the kiss, turning it heated and dirty quickly, tongues tangling, dick stirring, hands gripping Crispin's thighs tightly.   

A door slammed and was followed by an irate: _"What_ was _that?"_    

They broke apart, still wrapped up in each other as they turned to raise their eyebrows at Ashton, exasperated; Benji said flatly, "Snogging."   

"Dry humping?" Dominic suggested, and Irial shot him a glare because it was so not.  They'd both remembered that other children were present and accounted for.   

"Cuteness?" Cheryl mused.   

"A radio show," Micah pointed out.   

Daniel rolled his eyes and glared at the pair of them, "It might as well have been an hour of Million Matchmaker played out over the radio."   

"That's a good show, mate," Irial said evenly before shrugging under their furious gazes.  "I flirt with _everyone_ who comes on this show.  That's what I do.  That's my trademark.  That's who I am and this show is.  It's raunchy jokes, gossip, sarcasm, ragging on the industry, flirting with celebrities, throwing shit and cursing, snide comments, and decent music, and news straight from the horse's mouth.  Are you going to tell me how to do _my_ job now?  Because if you're here to manage me, I demand a raise,  I don't get paid enough to work with you fuckers."   

After all the celebrities Irial had met, he doubted there was enough money in the world to deal with celebrities who were a new breed of fucked up no matter what people thought; he'd deduced quickly that not looking like either a psycho, a diva, a tweaker, a whore, a bitch, or an asshole depended entirely on how good your PR rep was.  Dissident, though, had a tendency to drive Irial to hard alcohol, late-night partying, and drunken phone calls to Crispin about how fucked up everything was.  Or _long ass_ walks with the dogs...those too.   

Daniel glowered at Irial, "We need to talk."   

Irial sighed tiredly, "Fuck.  Can we _not?"_    

"I didn't know you were making house calls now," Crispin commented blandly.   

"The last month has seen a pick-up in the speculation," Daniel intoned, "we need to discuss our options for nipping this in the bud.  Luckily no one believes you two are _actually_ engaged."   

Dominic scoffed, "Yeah, that's _great."_    

Crispin and Irial smirked at him, and Irial sighed tiredly, "So this is our weekly 'let's make Crispin look like a slag and make Irial enforce a cycle of bullying and homophobia to cover our arses' talk, yeah?  Excellent, I just like to know these things."   

"Do I get to come now that we're engaged?  Or do we still have to play glorified telephone for the next forever like we don't actually live together, and aren't _actually_ indulging in the type of relationship where these things get _shared?"_   Crispin asked genially.   

Micah raised his hand, "Can we come or are we still going to behave like we're not all involved except for the fact that their compliance determined the fate of whether or not this band spends the next _forever_ fighting it out in court?"   

"Oh excellent, we made it in time for the good stuff, Brandon," Rosie said, appearing with Harry in the studio doorway, a breathless intern behind her Irial's not so happy producer, Brandon Greer who looked ridiculously uncomfortable under Crispin's glare, and some tall, gangly suit who Irial vaguely recognized, couldn't place, and carried a fucking _briefcase._    

"You mean the part where I get treated like a pariah and am bossed around?"  Irial drawled, resting his head against Crispin's chest.   

"You mean the part where we get threatened with lawsuits?"  Dominic huffed.   

"Not today," Harry shrugged, and everyone balked at him, even Ashton and Daniel who obviously had no idea what the hell Harry was getting at with that.  He turned to Irial, "We need to talk, _all of us_."   

"You found it?"  Micah asked.   

Crispin and Irial shared a perplexed look while Ashton demanded, "What the hell is _this,_ Harry?"   

Irial wanted to know that too; Cheryl simply nodded, "Get set up in the conference room.  We're on in fifty minutes anyway from there."   

"That will be enough," Harry remarked.   

"For _what?"_ Crispin asked, fingers tapping against Irial's shoulder nervously.   

Cheryl nodded, "I'll grab food.  Larry," Cheryl said to their still-startled intern, "conference room's all set up?"   

Larry floundered, "Um...I...yeah?"   

"Good, stay out of there," Cheryl ordered, giving Micah a goodbye kiss before flitting past everyone with a peck on the cheek, hugging Rosie as she brushed out the door, pulling their producer and Larry the intern along with her, "I'll grab snacks and coffee!"   

"Let's go," Harry commanded, sweeping from the room with a smug Rosie and satisfied Brandon in tow.  As furious as Ashton and Daniel were, they followed their orders wordlessly, fuming.  The boys grinned at each other with anxious excitement, and Irial gave his boyfriend a long searching look, spotting his nerves and bringing their lips together, the close-mouth kiss a promise and reassurance that whatever this was they were in it together and would be fine.  Crispin relaxed and gave him a peck in return, hopping off the table linking their hands together, letting Irial lead them down the hall to the conference room.   

It looked like a mediation...or a hostile negotiation with a terrorist country.  The latter seemed much more appropriate.   

The webcam, laptop, and projector had been set up, but on one side of the table sat Breaking Fourth, expressions tense and angry, glaring at their management, but leaning on each other in a unified front.  Daniel and Ashton, ever urbane, sat opposite the boys, stoic and cold but giving off the air of annoyance like they had something _else_ to be doing with their day.  The briefcase guy sat at the table head, Harry standing behind him, Rosie perched on the end of the table, and Brandon leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching silently.   

Rosie winked at Irial, and he felt his breath leave him, gaping at her while Harry simply said, "Iri, Cris, take a seat."   

Crispin tugged him over towards the boys, sitting down beside Micah and pulling Irial into his lap, eyeing everyone like a caged animal.  Irial kissed the back of his hand, and Crispin startled, looking over at him, breathing out and relaxing when he noticed how calm Irial was; he wrapped his arms around Irial's waist, linking their hands.   

"We've been having a bit of a war over the last three and half years," Harry said, holding up a hand to cut off Ashton.  "This," he pointed to briefcase dude, "is Tyler Folcolm, a contract lawyer that Brandon and Rosie have been working with over the last month or so."   

Tyler raised his ice blonde eyebrows, and Rosie nodded once, hitting him lightly on the shoulder, "Go ahead, Ty."   

"Right, I've been reading over _these,"_ he reached down and picked up a stack of contracts that he dropped on the table while Ashton and Daniel both froze and glared between the lawyers and Harry.  "For starters, the fact that you _all_ can be sued for _Mr. Emerson's_ actions, but the whole band was neither aware of that nor signed any sort of document acknowledging that is of questionable legality all on its own.  I very much doubt it would stand up in court, but I'm hardly surprised.  My firm recently represented a former Dissident client who went through a similar circumstance; they are quite notorious for those wild sort of ideas."   

Ashton gritted his teeth, "They are contractually obligated—"   

"I'm _quite_ aware of all the things they're contractually obligated to do: produce an album every year, release three singles from each album, tour every ten months unless otherwise agreed upon, attend every publicity event unless they possess a valid reason not to, allow you access to official social networking accounts, keep you up to date on their private lives, utilize Dissident lawyers, provide up-to-date contact information for themselves as well as every relevant family member, give Dissident the details of private social network accounts, emails, mobile numbers," Tyler put the papers down and raised his eyebrows at Ashton.  "On that note, I'm not here in any official capacity, representing Breaking Fourth.  I am, however, offering unbiased, legal advice."   

"Obviously, that's well needed," Micah muttered while the boys nodded.   

Tyler nodded, "First and foremost, hire a lawyer, _any_ lawyer that doesn't work for your management.  Music management is all about money, all about business, and any lawyer from them will have a conflict of interest that every judge will see, that contract stipulation won't hold up in court either.  Second, you're better off not trying to weasel your way out of these contracts and running away to another management company; it's only got a year and a half left, that could be better spent either renegotiating or looking into finding a management company that works for you.  Third," Tyler continued, holding up a hand when the band tried to speak.  Cris squeezed Irial's hand so tightly, he was afraid he'd break it, "as I hear waiting it out is no longer an option, and Mr. Emerson has already considered quitting—which wouldn't be good for _anyone—to_ maintain mental stability, let me just say this: he signed at contract as a minor being advised by a lawyer with bias and having no guardian or trusted adult with him _and_ can demonstrate he never had clear understanding of what he signed with witnesses to testify to that.  The contract is technically fraudulent, unconscionable, _and_ he lacked the capacity to understand the terms."   

Irial nodded to himself, sharing a look with Rosie and Harry while Crispin glanced at his band, their hands entwined, leaning against each other.  Everyone realizing what that meant, including the simmering, silent management.  Dissident could sue, but Breaking Fourth could counter-sue _and_ they could win, which would be a very loud, very public blow to Dissident's already tumultuous reputation.  Irial swallowed the granule of hope that rose in him, looking at Crispin, still in silent conversation with his band; he knew what he wanted, but this wasn't Irial's decision, not really.  Without looking at him, Crispin pressed a kiss to Irial's shoulder and nodded once in agreement to whatever had silently been decided, relaxing infinitesimally against Irial; he swung his gaze to Tyler, biting Irial's shoulder lightly through the flannel fabric of his over-shirt, and Irial just sagged into Crispin, relieved and soothed that whatever Breaking Fourth had decided was a decision Crispin was comfortable and happy with, that Irial would be too.   

Micah nodded and spoke, "The lads and I are hiring you to renegotiate our contract immediately, as we're quite done being manipulated and shamed for our choices.  If Rosie and Harry trust you that's good enough for us."   

Tyler took a breath and nodded, "I'm free tomorrow at one to sit down and discuss what you want."   

The boys all shared a looked before nodding, and Benji said, "Excellent, I'll email you to confirm.  And," he looked at Ashton and Daniel, "perhaps you ought to prep legal tomorrow for our upcoming contract meeting, yeah?  I'm sure it'll be doozy."   

Ashton glared at Benji while he just smirked, and Crispin said, "Now, we have a twitcam to prepare for and enough of management for today.  You'll be hearing from Tyler soon enough, and I'm sure you have a tour to finish detailing."   

Ashton and Daniel stood up abruptly and glowered at the four of them, stiff and tense, walking to the door before pausing and stopping to stare at Harry before Ashton smiled coldly, "I'm quite sure this doesn't need to be said, but you're fired."   

Harry shrugged, and Rosie grabbed his hand, glaring as they swept out of the room, still tense and electrified with Crispin and Irial wrapped up in each other, nervous, anxious, antsy, and scared but hopeful for the first time in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I reiterate that I have no legal training just a laptop with internet connection so here we are. Although, I was really glad when this chapter came. I mean, finally I can stop writing depressing shit...not that it automatically becomes all happy dippy skippy but, you know, close enough.


	53. "Jamie All Over" Mayday Parade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irial and Cris take a two day break to check out Vans Warped...and Cris is a bit of a drama queen so naturally Irial checks him.

**Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
Keep on waiting for dawn, horizon comes like a candle, flickers into life and burns brighter with time  
  
 **Wishes Come True (@darlingdori)**  
Something new is coming...  
  
 **Harry Benton-Sterling (@HaroldBSterling)**  
Might as well be negotiating peace between N  & S Korea...Israel and Palestine...hopelessly exasperating  
  
 **Text message from Irial to Crispin**  
 **Irial:** Ani just said on air she's screwing Benji and doesn't 'get' homosexuality...How're your meeting then?  
 **Crispin:** Um...no words for his poor taste or her stupidity  & day 16 of this bs  
 **Irial:** what does ty think?  
 **Crispin:** That they're running out of options  
 **Crispin:** Next move is threatening to file  
 **Irial** : Smile, just dazzle them or something ;D  
 **Crispin:** K Bella Swan...use my feminine wiles too?  
 **Irial:** Flip hair...flutter eyelashes...sway hips  
 **Irial:** Just no twerking!!!!  
 **Crispin:** Arse, so mean :(  
 **Irial:** <3  
  
 **RT by @DorianII**  
 **Irish Rose (@rosieposie)**  
Some people are just raging douche canoes that cannot be saved.  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
In the event of a plane crash, I'll be drinking on the party raft with flt attendants #ImInLove  
  
 **Dominic Kinsey (@Nic_Kinsey)**  
Meeting @BevDixonOffical parents this weekend #nervous #anxiety #NoMusicFestsForMe  
  
 **Tumblr Post: somethingsgottagive**  
A bunch of people have been saying B4 tour could be postponed due to internal issues. Rosie's been pissed with someone. Harry posted that Tweet about hostile negotiations. And all the boys left London for the weekend as did Irial...and Cris hinted someone is going to a music festival...warped? But seriously, what's happening?????  
 **Crissypoo_princess**  
Contract negotiations??? ^.^  
 **wishes_b4_kisses**  
Don't they have like 2 more years with Dissident?  
 **Ceisial_shipsitself**  
crisial come out....pleeeeeeeeeease?  
Scary thought: what if it's a beard contract for Cris...I might die.  
  
 **Crisial Updates (@CrisialUpdates)**  
@breakingfourth is all out of town with friends. Wonder who @DorianII is with?  
  
 **RT by @Cris_Emerson @CrisialUpdates**  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
@piercetheveil? yes! @alltimelow? Yes! @askingalexandria? Hell yes! #eargasm

* * *

Cris liked feeling invisible, another face in the crowd, a random person moving amongst them, which Ariella had laughed about when he'd told her so, saying, "Some womanizing fame-whore _you_ are."  Yeah, she had a point.   

The thing was that he loved music, singing, writing, performing, getting a chance to express his thoughts, feelings, and beliefs, then share them with an audience and get their feedback.  He was a bit of a hippie like that, a purist who felt that _that_ was the point of music, not all the bullshit PR that people made it out to be.  Not to say he wasn't _grateful_ for his success, not to say he wasn't _grateful_ that Ariella hadn't had to take out loans to pay for university and his mother and stepfather hadn't gone bankrupt to pay for their anniversary in Hawaii where his mother had always wanted to go.  What he didn't love was all the shit that came along with being successful and achieving his dreams.   

He hated having his every moved dogged by fans and paparazzi alike; he couldn't go down to the grocery store without his picture ending up on a social networking site—or hadn't until Irial had bribed the neighbors after throwing a housewarming party that effectively got them all in line to be some Hannah Montana reminiscent compound where everyone knew but no one said anything.  He hated having his life managed by people who had no interest in it beyond how much money they could make; he understood business but thought it only went so far when you're working directly in a business of people and their private lives.  He hated that the past year had been the first time in _seven years_ that he could remember having any _actual_ free time between interviews, awards shows, writing, recording, and touring.  He hated the tabloids the most.   

Vans Warped was like a whole other _universe._    

People were so busy falling back into love with music that they either didn't notice or didn't bother with Cris.  No one was following him or taking pictures; he'd had a few girls and even some guys come up and ask for pictures and autographs when he was standing in line for like twelve dollar hot dogs and merch, but those moments were few and far between and far less invasive than his usual encounters.  It was refreshing and relaxing and fantastic, and Irial had laughed at him when they'd wandered away from the Motionless In White set, Irial carefully steering him around the thick, sickly sweet smelling cloud of pot, while Cris had grinned dopily, exhilarated and content.   

_"I had a dream last night we drove out to see Las Veeeeeeeegas!  We lost ourselves in the bright lights!  I wish you could have seen us!  You opened up into my aaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrmms!  And we laughed as I held you, I'll never go back to Georgia!"_

Cris grinned and finished with Irial, " _Not at least till I have to!_ "   

Irial laughed and sipped his beer from where he sat cross-legged beside Cris who sprawled out, shirtless, sweaty, and exhausted but content across the ground.  He'd tied his hair back at some point during the day, and Irial had indulged him and bought a bandana off a guy giving out free hugs so that he could fully keep it out of his face.  Cris was sure he looked a mess in worn Vans he'd stolen from Iri, jeans cut-offs that were little more than Dominic's arts and crafts project, his Ray bans and necklace, with his dark hair pulled back under a blood red bandana, lips chapped, tattoo speckled skin covered in a film of sweat and dust, and arms decorated in recently purchased band bracelets.   

Running his fingers lightly up Cris's side, Irial pressed his finger into the lovebite on Cris's collarbone, sharing a soft, knowing smile with him and sipping his beer again before asking, "What's the problem, love?"   

Sighing tiredly, annoyed, Cris rolled his eyes behind the shades of his sunglasses, and Irial pulled them off his face and shoved them onto his own head behind the Aviators poised on top of his skull.  He raised his eyebrows at Cris, gray eyes sparkling, and Cris hummed thoughtfully, smiling wanly at Irial, "This whole bullshit with management."   

"You're sabotaging your own Christmas present, princess," Irial said lightly, resting his hand over Cris's heart, thumb massaging circles into the skin.   

"It's like...I don't know."   

Irial gave him a skeptical look, glancing over to where Mayday Parade was still electrifying the crowd with their softer set, which Cris couldn't help but appreciate in the falling darkness of twilight.  Not pressing him, Irial's fingers skimmed lightly over Cris's skin once more, his heart rate speeding up in response to the gesture, gold eyes never leaving Irial's surprisingly expressive countenance as he cupped Cris's face in his hand, studying him with a slight frown and a sweet smile, thumb rubbing over Cris's cheekbone, "You look tired."   

Cris huffed, "Red-eyes do that to people."   

"Our flight crew was brilliant, though."   

"Only you could become chummy with the flight crew after they yelled at you for disobeying federal air regulations _and_ convince the whole plane to sing 'Piano Man' for that one bird whose birthday it was," Cris shook his head, tone exasperated and fond but also a little awed.  Every now and then, Cris envied the way Irial could just make people love him so completely and quickly; literally, one second the flight attendants are ready to pull him off the flight because he refused to stop talking on the phone during take-off, and the next they're talking travel and personal lives with him while he got their whole aisle into a lively game of Gin Rummy.  It really wasn't fair.   

Irial's lips quirked up into a smirk, and he tapped Cris's temple pointedly before saying softly, "We have a red-eye again tomorrow."   

"Does it count as a red-eye if we're technically in the air all day switching time zones?"   

"Check out's at eleven," Irial laughed in response.   

"Our flight's at half past seven anyway," Cris grumbled.   

"Excellent as you don't like Ventura."   

He surely didn't.   

Cris might be the one celebrity in the world who absolutely hated the West Coast.  He could live along the East Coast, he supposed, wouldn't mind it in the slightest, but the West Coast was just so...fake.  Ugly disguised as pretty, cracked, twisted, and decaying beneath a facade of beautiful and perfect and plastic.  Ventura itself, where Irial had bought tickets for them to see Warped Tour two weeks before Breaking Fourth officially began their next tour and on the weekend so that Irial wouldn't have to miss any work, wasn't so terrible, but it was too close Los Angeles for Cris not to feel smothered and pretentious.   

Today, though, Cris hated Ventura on principle because it was fucking hot.  They'd both gone through four or five water bottles alone, sun glaring down on them mercilessly.  It had been worth it, Cris supposed, to feel normal for a day.  To see all of his favorite bands performing in one place and to be open with Irial, holding his hand, kissing his cheek, pressing their bodies together in the middle of a crowd without fear of a hundred cameras capturing the image and selling it to the highest bidding tabloid (though he'd prefer it be TMZ if it had to be anyone).  That aside, being happy didn't make him any further away to dying of heat stroke.   

"We have a layover in Charlotte."   

"How random," Cris smiled up at Irial who laughed and nodded.   

"We literally get in like twelve hours later in London."   

Cris scoffed, "Have a nice day at work, darling."   

"It's like a fifteen hour flight."   

"Worth it though," Cris said, hand lightly wrapping around Irial's wrist, fingers pressing against his pulse point.   

Irial smiled softly at Cris, "You're always worth it, love."   

Blushing, Cris tried to stifle his smile but failed, shaking his head and saying, "You're such a secret sap."   

"Only for you, princess," Irial said lightly.  "I can't believe your bandmate's back in Ani Tiernan's clutches once again.  He's gonna get Herpes."   

"I don't believe he'll mind as long as the shags good."   

"That's really sad."   

"They went on holiday together."   

"To Ireland," Irial drawled, shaking his head.  "He should, maybe, date someone who isn't famous.  It may do him a world of good.  I quite love the boy, but he's getting a tad too big-headed and snobbish, isn't he?  At least when it comes to dating...and partying...and lifestyle choices...and—"   

"He's having _fun_ , elf," Cris tsked before his lips curved into a smile, eyes focusing on a sheepish Irial, "Are you worried about him?"   

" _Penney's_ worried about him."   

Cris quirked an eyebrow, "Oh?"   

"Um-hmm," Irial said sagely, making Cris stifle a smile.  He adored everything about Irial, would have even if he hadn't taken to his bandmates, but he couldn't help but just feel warm inside whenever he saw the extent to which Irial had managed to bond with the boys.  Their group of close friends and family had merged as seamlessly as their lives had, forming into a collective group, a collective family, that had adopted the other with open arms, which gave Cris just a little more comfort, sure-footing, and contentedness when it came to their relationship on the large scale, beyond just their little bubble.  "If your bandmate wants to shag the most vile, slag on the planet that's entirely up to him.  Penney is just concerned it's not good for him."   

"Right," Cris smiled softly at Irial, running his hand lightly along his arm and holding his gaze seriously, "perhaps _Penney_ should let him make his own mistakes...and stop being so hateful towards vagina."   

Irial cringed but didn't deny, "That _word_ , Crispin."   

Laughing, Cris turned his head and pressed a kiss to the center of Irial's palm, eyes never leaving his; Irial's gaze held, face open and soft, unusual for someone usually so guarded.  Cris's heart fluttered, resolve weakening as he dropped his gaze and whispered, "What if I ruin this for the boys?"   

Irial remained silent for a minute, tracing his fingers over the planes of Cris's face and sipping his beer, eyes on the purple sky while the sound of 'Black Cat' by Mayday Parade drifted over from their stage not teen feet away, most of the crowd having shoved in to be close to the stage while Irial and Cris lounged with others, relaxing after a long, hot, but incredible day.   

Downing the rest of his beer, Irial winced and tossed the cup in the trashcan with an over exaggerated arc to the shot.  It dropped into the trashcan after bouncing on the edge for a few moments, and Irial held his hands up victoriously while a few scene and emo onlookers laughed and clapped, bounded together by the atmosphere of the festival, which Cris had only ever seen Leeds Festival do before.  Irial nodded at them once, laughing, "Thank you, thank you, I know I'm spectacular."   

They laughed and weaved back into the crowd clustered around the stage; Irial looked down at Cris warmly, "Ruin what?  The tour?  Your careers?"   

Cris made a noise of frustration, tensing as he tried to get a handle on everything he'd been feeling the past few weeks, and Irial shushed him lightly, stretching out beside Cris, pressing their sides together as he propped himself up on one arm.  He looked down at Cris, their faces closer together than they should really risk in public, even at Warped, and Irial's hand thrown across Cris's waist, fingers lightly and absently tracing the dreamcatcher tattoo on his side.  Cris sighed, relaxing into Irial.   

"Harry and Tyler were negotiating today...yesterday?  Did you check your email?"   

"I actually wanted to enjoy Warped not have a mental breakdown about destroying my best friends' careers."   

Irial rolled his eyes and pinched Cris's side before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his mobile.  Cris watched him silently, closing his eyes and turning his head to hide his face against Irial's arm.  He thumbed in Cris's password silently, which should probably be a hell of a lot weirder than it was considering how protective he (like everyone else in the world) was over their mobiles, and scrolled through his email before looking down at Cris whose stomach flipped.   

"Oh my God, I did it, didn't I?  I'm officially a homewrecker."   

"I don't think that word means what you think it means."   

"Same connotation."   

"I don't think so."   

"I broke up a home, broke up families, broke up careers because of my selfish need to come out and inability to handle basic PR relationships I mastered three years ago."   

Irial asked dryly, "Are you going to _read_ the email or continue being a drama queen?"   

Cris snatched the mobile out of Irial hand and took a deep breath, pressing a kiss to Irial's sticky skin before turning to the email with trepidation.

To: mustlovedogs@gmail.com.uk; djkinsey@gmail.com.uk; crossesoflead@gmail.com.uk; chriscrossedmicah@gmail.com.uk  
Cc: haroldpotter6999@gmail.com.uk  
From: tyler.folcolm@gmail.com.uk  
Subject: Contract Renegotiation  
I'm quite aware all of you are away as Harry and I instructed just to take some time away from this whole dizzying affair.  As it is, we managed to finally reach an agreement with Dissident that would satisfy everyone.  It includes a two year contract extension as well as two albums, five singles between the two, the same policy towards interviews and promos (within reason obviously), and at least one world tour no longer than ten months.  In exchange, they're willing to allow you boys to hire out for publicists, as per Mr. Cross's request, and keep your legal team, as per Mr. Kinsey's; they'll also allow Mr. Emerson and Mr. Greyson to come out as long as a respected publicist guides you gently through the process and waive their right to force any sort of PR relationships or family compliance to their protocols and decisions regarding publicity, that extends to allowing you solitary control over your social networking accounts under the stipulation that you comply with promoting measures.  Obviously there are a lot more detailed and long-winded rights in the contract, which I've attached to the email, read over it and we can talk it over when everyone returns on Monday.  
Let me know if you need to reschedule,  
Tyler M. Folcolm  
Jensen and Associates   

Balking, Cris shook his head, opening up the attachment with shaky hands while Irial read along with him, stroking Cris's side soothingly, though it certain didn't help ease the tidal wave of emotions running through him.  It was some mixture of shock, outrage, relief, disbelief, and some selfish amount of happiness that he was allowed to come out and be open about his relationship with Irial.   

"They want more money from us," Cris muttered angrily.  Irial rolled his eyes, and Cris huffed, dropping the mobile onto his chest and meeting Irial's gaze, "It's not _about_ the money.  It's about the fact that they hijacked our freedom for seven years with no remorse _and_ want me to pay them for it like I'm rewarding them for a job well done."   

"Princess, they 'hijacked your freedom' _to_ make more money," Irial laughed humorlessly, smiling kindly, eyes sparkling in amusement as he looked down at Cris.  "You can hardly be surprised."   

"I'm _not,"_ Cris remarked, annoyed.  "And I get that it's business or whatever.  And I get that we'd probably have problems finding a new management company right after I come out anyway because no one wants to jump headlong into a shitshow—"   

"You don't know it's going to be a shitshow," Irial argued.   

"But it _probably_ is!"  Cris snapped, tears welling in his eyes.  He stopped, rolled his eyes and tried to control his emotions.  Irial sighed and leaned down to press their lips together; Cris managed to hold onto his tension and anger for a good five seconds before he melted against Irial, licking his bottom lip until Irial's lips parted, tongue tangling with Cris's.  A very small and easily ignored part of him whispered that Dissident would be pissed if _this_ was how he came...he let it go.   

Irial pulled back first, pressing his forehead to Cris's, fingers pressing into the bruises that he'd left on the pale skin of Cris's hipbone only hours ago while their breaths mingled, both breathing heavily, hearts racing, connected, skin to skin and eyes on each other.  He shook his head, "Forget what happened to Raven Symone, okay.  You are not her.  And forget Dissident, alright, so you'll have to work with Ashton—"   

"That arse," Cris commented darkly.   

"—for another two or three years.  You'll have me and the boys and your freedom and good lawyers...not good food, though, unless you make it yourself."   

"You can make oatmeal," Cris smiled.   

Irial grinned back, "And pasta."   

"And ice cream sundaes."  Irial giggled, and Cris's smile widened, eyes tracing over Irial's face as he reach up to tangle his hands in Irial's hair.  Irial stilled and raised his eyebrows at Cris who couldn't imagine life without this man anymore, who was his world and could center him and focus him and calm him with only a few words, but he didn't say any of that because he could see Irial knew, "You're a terrible cook."   

"That's my lot in life as a popstar's trophy wife," Irial laughed, and Cris grinned, content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vans Warped Tour.....*floats away on a cloud*  
> That place is awesome (of course when I went it was sixty degrees with cloud cover and a nice breeze but...you know...details ;D


	54. "Bewitched" Blood on the Dancefloor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jealousy is not a good look on Irial. And desperate ex-girlfriends are not a good look on Cris.

**Breaking Fourth (@breakingfourth)**  
Have Hope Tour kicks off today in London :D!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #PardonMyEnthusiasm  
  
 **RT by @DorianII**  
 **Crisial Updates (@CrisialUpdates)**  
I met @DorianII today at @breakingfourth concert #bestdayever #BeJelly  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
Hell BOB it's not so nice to see you again :( #MissingMyBoyfriend #HateBusinessTrips #ImHorny  
  
 **Ariella Emerson (@Ariella_Em106)**  
@DorianII omg way too much info dude #SuchAGirl  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
AND BOB's out of batteries #ImSoHorny #HelpMe  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@DorianII so lazy, elf. That's what hands are for...and porn...  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
@Cris_Emerson me=trophy wife...you want me to use my own hands? #YouCrazy #FuckOuttaHere  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@DorianII so spoiled #SomeoneNeedsToSpankYou #DisciplineTheBoy  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
@Cris_Emerson not in front of the kids, princess. Lmao XD  
  
 **An on-the-road romance reunion?**  
Opening for Breaking Fourth on their Have Hope tour is Cris Emerson's former flame, Boston-born singer/songwriter, Beatrice Learner.  The pair originally dated only months after the band signed in July 2011. They met at a party and, despite the five year age difference between the then 16 year old boybander and 21 year old Learner, dated for over six months before calling it quits. Now, they're touring together for at least the UK leg of the four month tour and, while the split has always been deemed amicable by both parties, sources say that they've been close the past four weeks, joking around together backstage and spending time alone in the evenings.  Is this young love being rekindled after seven years? We hope so, it's about time for our boybander to settle down at least a little, especially with a cutie like Beatrice.  
  
 **Anabella (@bella_ana)**  
Who else is upset @DorianII said nada about @Cris_Emerson bday? #heartbroken #sadface  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
Roadtrip with the babes and besties #scares #only2hrs #savemefromthehoes  
  
 **Holden Ireland (@holdtheirish)**  
@rosieposie @Ariella_Em106 @DorianII @EmmaCross...worst roadtrip buddies ever O.O

* * *

**Iri:** How mad would you be if I did a body shot off Harry?

**Crispin:** idk...how mad would you be if I did one off Bea?   

Irial grimaced and down the last of his like neon green daiquiri, leaning back against the bar and cheering as Rosie straddled Harry, smirking at Irial before leaning down.  She latched her lips over his belly button and drank down the marshmallow vodka (which... _ew_...he was just saying), smirking up at a flushed, turned on Harry who watched her lick through hooded eyes off the liquid sensuously, holding his gaze as he breathing shallowed, pupils blown.  Ariella, already completely wasted, laughed and stumbled into Holden's side, shaking her head and taking a swig of Holden's whiskey, though she clearly couldn't hold it.   

Quickly and discreetly, knowing how much Rosie hated when her mother found sketch pictures of her online, Irial snapped a picture of Rosie and Harry, both half-drunk, flushed, turned on, and lustful, sending it to Crispin via Snapchat with the caption: 'no worries, rosie took care of it'.  Naturally, he followed up that message with a photo of Ariella using Holden to hold herself upright while she pressed her face into his neck while she teetered dangerously on her high heels; he was smiling, hand patting her cheek while he shook his head, eyes on his sister who'd decided that the best course of action after doing a body shot off her not-boyfriend bff was to give him a lap dance to 'Promiscuous'...okay.    

Without even bothering to extend the same courtesy (he'd blame the alcohol and poor impulse-control tomorrow, he figured) as he had to Rosie, Irial uploaded the picture of Holden and Rosie onto Instagram, making sure to mention both of them so that no one would miss what Ariella—at the very least—would be mortified by whenever she managed to sleep off her hangover.

**Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
@holdtheirish @Ariella_Em106 cant hold their liquor for shit...next time I'm hiring a sitter   

Crispin simply responded by sending Irial a Snapchat of Micah's little sister and Cheryl, both with their heads tipped back and a bottle in their mouths, apparently engaging in some kind of no-hands drinking contest, intense given the way their boyfriends were rather aggressively cheering them on.  Last time Irial had seen Emma Cross had been nearly four _hours_ ago when Morgan had abandoned her on the dance floor; she'd ended up using Irial as an unwilling but not unreceptive dance partner, grinding against him like she didn't know he was gay.  Maybe she hadn't since even then she'd been two shots of bourbon and another Tom Collins away from either projectile vomiting or passing out from alcohol poisoning then.  Honestly, she was _still_ going?  How was she even alive?

**Irial:** Drinking contest? U should play. No gag reflex. U could win ;)

**Crispin:** XD I think that might be cheating then

**Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
@Cris_Emerson practice makes perfect #NotCheating #MadSkills #GoodPrep   

He may just be the only person in the world who could censor his Tweets despite being probably five times over the legal limit.  Like he'd said, though, practice makes perfect, and after Tweeting out a picture of himself taking a shot out of someone's ass while wearing nothing but a sombrero, rainboots, and a Shamu poncho, he'd never quite been wasted enough to be so liberal with his Tweeting.  He wasn't _that_ carefree.   

Harry finally sat up, swinging off the bar after smacking a wet, sloppy, drunken kiss on Rosie's lips making her laugh and toss her head back in amusement while she stumbled back to the floor.  He threw his arm around Irial's shoulders and grinned at the bartender, "Two sazeracs please maestro," the bartender laughed, "on _his_ " he waved dismissively at an amusement Irial, "tab."   

"Says who?"  Irial laughed.   

Rolling his eyes, Harry bumped his hip against Irial's, "Says fucking me.  I deserve it."   

"Especially after all the shit he did for you and your boytoy," Rosie pointed out, blatantly  checking out the bartender while Holden chuckled and Harry cuffed her on the back of the head.  She stuck her tongue out at him.   

"Exactly," Harry nodded, grinning at the bartender like he'd just saved him singlehandedly from a hoard of hungry zombies when he returned with their drinks.  "You, my friend, are a godsend.  Oh, and my Rosie dear wants another cosmo, no doubt."   

"I'm gonna be poor," Irial lamented to the bartender.   

Harry scoffed, but Ariella was the one who took a sip of her Mai Tai and waved off his concern, saying, "As if my dear, dear brother would ever let _that_ happen.  Don't like divorce him or some shit.  He'll end up broke living in my basement and eating Ramen noodles because he'd give you everything just to like fucking make you happy."   

"Romantic," Holden beamed.   

"Disgusting," Ariella shook her head, slipping out of her heels and slipping them in Rosie's oversized purse.  Rosie eyed her, sharing a quick, unnerved glance with Irial before saying.   

"Think you've had enough."   

Ariella rolled her eyes and grabbed Holden's hand, tugging him towards the dance floor, "Come on, Holden, darling!  Dance with me!"   

Holden huffed but allowed himself to be towed away while Rosie looked after them with her lips pursed, glancing over at Harry and Irial, "I do hope they're not fucking."   

"Your brother's as straight as a circle, Rosie, never fear," Irial held up his glass in a cheers, and Rosie looked mildly satisfied.

**Irial:** Ur sister gonna need a tetnus shot 2morrw. no shoes O.O

**Crispin:** U can use perf emoticons but cant spell. Srly drunk?

**Irial:** Getting there :)   

With purpose, Harry swallowed down the last bit of his sazerac and placing the glass down on the counter decisively.  Rosie and Irial glanced at each other, eyebrows raised, amused.  Hand going up to play with Rosie's loose waves of hair as he eyed Irial who shifted under the gaze but quirked an eyebrow.  Harry nodded, "We're dancing."   

"Oh Lord," Rosie rolled her eyes and turned to the bartender.  "Can I have a water, please?  I damn sure need to be sober enough to capture this on camera."   

Irial narrowed his eyes on Harry, "Are you seducing me?  I definitely remember this being how you seduced me the last time."   

"Crazy kids," Rosie tsked, shaking her head.   

"Your boyfriend might kill me," Harry stage-whispered, grabbing Irial's hands and towing a reluctant Irial towards the crowded floor.  "Where _is_ your boyfriend?  You're not all attached at the hip or what have you."   

"Your fault," Irial pinched Harry's side.   

Harry pouted before shrugging, "Oh...yeah."  He perked up abruptly, "You listened!"   

Eyes scanning the dim interior for any sign of his missing boyfriend as they made their way through the crowd, Irial frowned.  Emma, Morgan, Cheryl, Harry, Rosie, Holden, Ariella, and he had driven down from London to Bristol where the boys had last played.  They had the day off between their last show the previous night in Bristol and their show the next night in Plymouth; most of it had been spent visiting Micah's family and neighborhood in the city, but, seeing as how it was Crispin's birthday, they'd all decided to go out for the evening and socialize like the twenty-something-years-old they actually were.  Despite being given the go-ahead for Crispin to come out, Harry had a game plan that didn't include them being outed by drunken makeout session at a seedy club...whatever, they'd agreed to keep their distance...within reason, which, for them, meant no drunken makeout sessions, callouts, or lap dances where people could see.   

Emma was the easiest to spot, having passed out on a couch across Morgan's lap while he boyfriend and Dominic drank their champagne and laughed.  Cheryl and Micah looked about two seconds away from ripping each other's clothes off, dancing too slow for the music, bodies pressed flush against each other, and hands running over each other's bodies with intent and familiarity...it was getting uncomfortable.  Benji, it appeared, had taken an interest in some chick at the bar, trying to chat her up and buying her a Margarita while Rosie sipped water and kept butting into his conversation with a wry grin.  Holden and Ariella were dancing and looking a hot mess, like two little kids having fun on the dance floor during like a wedding.   

Where _was_ Crispin?   

He'd barely seen his boyfriend all night, which, he knew Harry's words of warning had actually been a threat, but where was he?   

The song shifted to 'Throwback' by B.O.B.  Irial let his body fall into a rhythm because he wasn't the best dancer, but he wasn't horrible and enjoyed it well enough at clubs, especially with Harry.  Dancing had been how they'd met...dancing and alcohol...which had led to their short-lived one night stand in which he hadn't kicked Harry out right afterwards...four hours later he'd woken up to find Rosie and Harry sitting on the counter eating cocoa pops, Harry buck naked, and both of them laughing about Toddlers and Tiaras.  Now they were best mates...it all turned out alright then.   

Irial spotted Crispin as the song shifted to 'Go Fuck Yourself' by My Crazy Girlfriend.  He looked as irritatingly sinful as usual in shredded jeans that were way too tight and showed off the curve of his ass, but he'd traded his usual Hipster chic outwear for Irial's worn leather jacket and a navy v-neck t-shirt.  His hair was wrecked, mussed and loose, looking like the sex hair that it was, a remnant from their quick tryst in the boy's tour bus when they'd all first arrived.  Crispin's cheeks had the telltale flush of having indulged in maybe a little too much alcohol, laugh too loud and free, tactical nature lacking its usual restraint, and his wide boyish smile a little too prominent.  Crispin looked away from where he'd been at the opposite end of the bar chatting with one of the tour's sound techs, catching Irial's gaze immediately, the light golden eyes darkening and burning when they locked on Irial's.   

Only half-listening to what his friend was saying, Crispin nodded, eyes raking over Irial's body as he moved his hips, grinding against Harry automatically, the two of them attuned to each other's bodies when it came to dancing after years of friendship and an inordinate amount of trips to clubs.  Harry's hands grasped Irial's hips, pulling them closer together, and Crispin, eyes never leaving Irial's, clenched his jaw, quirking an eyebrow at Irial who bit his bottom lip and smirk at Crispin, the electric current of attraction, desire, and lust that linked them cloying and palpable, only thickening when Irial pointedly rolled his hips into Harry's, a smirk dancing over his lips when Crispin swallowed, eyes narrowed on Irial dangerous and heated, and Harry huffed, pinching Irial's side.   

"Found your boy, then?" Harry teased.   

Irial hummed, eyes never straying from Crispin until at figure hurled itself at Crispin.  Movements stuttering, a cold feel ran through Irial, settling in the pit of his stomach because _what the actual fuck?_  

Easily, Irial recognized the woman, all 5'10", leggy, size zero, naturally gorgeous, brunette extensions and compact body shoved into a minuscule cocktail dress and ten inch Betsey Johnson heels plastered against his fiancé, because how the fuck could he not recognize her?  In seven years, all that had happened to Beatrice Learner was dropping 20lbs she probably needed, modeled briefly for Guess, and discovered hair extensions and MAC...no really that was it.  Vampire, seriously, she still looked like the same twenty-one year old on-the-rise popstar who'd had a very public, very tumultuous, very disturbing fling with a sixteen year old insta-popular boybander because, in words of Irial's deceased homosexual idol "the only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about."  Having a relationship with a child?  Definitely an attention grabber for the press.   

Crispin caught her around the waist, looking away from Irial to smile down at Beatrice, wanly and shallow but genuine, not releasing her laugh as he spoke to her.  She threw her head back with a sultry laugh, and Crispin glanced back to Irial who tore his gaze away sharply, tugging Harry further into the crowd and throwing to the wind whatever inhibitions he'd had about dirty dancing with his best friend while his boyfriend was in the room because—seriously?— _Beatrice Learner_ who was an _actual ex_ and not some silly PR girlfriend who he was papped holding hands with or going to see Broadway shows or having lunch with.   

Irial had wrangled his jealousy (and supreme and utter dislike of the bitchy popstar) mostly because he had constant contact with not only Crispin but most of the band as well, including Harry's assurance that there would be no publicity scheme in place and the only coverage over some kind of reunion between the two former lovers would be press overreaction.  Maybe that was part of the problem tonight then, Irial figured, that Beatrice was honest to God clinging all over his fiancé because she had actual intent to seduce him...and he talked to Crispin more often when he was touring across the UK and Irial was bumming around London with their weird coalescent clique than he had this whole night...and Crispin had actually _allowed_ Beatrice to hang off of and basically dry hump him the whole fucking night, which took things way too far, in Irial's opinion.   

He was not smashed enough for this level of bullshit.   

In lieu of an alcoholic beverage and/or his Crispin, Irial gave up any and all qualms about his dancing, which tended to get borderline raunchy particularly with Harry, _especially_ with alcohol in his system.  Really, Irial considered it lucky on everyone who knew him that the DJ was playing Daft Punk and not something like New Boyz or Flo Rida, because Crispin had spent seventy-two hours virtually teasing Irial at inopportune moments of the day and then tapering off with passive-aggressive arguments after Charlie had sent him a video clip of Irial and one of Azadi's singers, Javed, groping and grinding with him when they were both drunk, Javed high off marijuana, to 'Low' and 'Backseat'.  In the end, they'd both gotten so worked up that it had taken them ten minutes and the bare minimum of dirty talk, groaning, and a couple pics to send them both over the edge so hard they could both barely talk, barely breathing right fifteen minutes before Crispin's show in Edinburgh.  The point, though, had been Irial's tendency to let his freak flag fly rather flamboyantly on the dance floor...and being upset wasn't much of a sedative.   

Slightly sweaty and completely immersed in the music, Irial swayed his hips and sang along to 'Can't Remember To Forget You', Harry, in front of him, laughing and singing along loudly, hips bumping against each other, chests pressed together, and his arms thrown around Irial's neck.  A pair of hands grasped Irial's hips, pulling him away from Harry,  the curve of his ass pressing back into someone's hard bulge; he froze automatically while Harry laughed, waggled his eyebrows and disappeared into the crowd, relaxing when a pair of lips pressed against the curve of his neck, nipping at his neck as Crispin's familiar scent washed over him.   

Humming, Irial grounded back into Crispin instinctually, smirking when Crispin sucked in a breath, biting Irial's neck pointedly and tightening his hold on Irial's hips.  He nuzzled his head into Irial's neck, licking a stripe up the side of his neck, nipping and kissing his jaw.  He moaned and tipped his head back to rest against Crispin's shoulder; Crispin chuckled then stiffened, tugging him away from the dance floor, his abrupt actions reminding Irial of why he'd been dry humping his best mate to Shakira in the first place.   

Crispin pulled them down the hallway, and Irial caught a glimpse of Beatrice, eyebrow quirked and lips pressed together, a pear martini dangling from her perfectly manicured fingertips as her eyes followed their progression.   

Finding a spot he deemed secluded enough, Crispin pressed Irial against the wall, their bodies aligned and pressed together, and Crispin rested his forehead against Irial's trying to meet his gaze, but Irial held onto his anger, turning his head away and closing his eyes, "You're pissed.  Why are _you_ pissed?"  Crispin's tone made it very clear who he believed was the wronged party in this situation.   

"Seriously?"  Irial huffed, trying to wiggling out from between Crispin and the wall, but Crispin just pressed him further into the wall.  His body, he decided with a sharp inhale, head falling back against the wall, was a traitor...that whore.   

"Yeah, Iri, _seriously._   You're going to be mean to me on my birthday?"  Crispin tried being cute, but Irial scoffed and tried to shove Crispin away from.  Recognizing Irial wasn't about to let this go, Crispin spoke, "Alright, then, so you practically shagged Harry on the dance floor in front of _everybody we know_ , but you're mad at me?  For doing what Harry said so that we can come out."   

"Fuck, Crispin, at least Harry's knows I'm taken.  Not like anything was going to happen."   

"So this is about Bea?"   

"Yes, Crispin Emerson, this is about your psychotic ex-girlfriend," Crispin raised an eyebrows, and Irial recognized that might have been a bit of leap; she was definitely a 'bitch' but 'psychotic' was a stretch, "who dresses like a streetwalker and practically gives you a lap dance every time you sit down.  And you _let her_."   

Crispin rolled his eyes, "Your insecurity about Bea gives you the right to dry hump your ex-one night shag turned best friend?  That _actually_ makes sense in your world?"   

"Harold Benton-Sterling is quite aware of this whole situation, and quite aware his not-a-girlfriend would cut of his balls if anything actually happened.  He's not hurling himself into my arms and trying to drag me into his medieval dungeon sex chamber.  Beatrice is a horny bitch whose trying to get into your fucking pants, and I realize that Harry told us to practice subtly—whatever the hell that is—but I didn't realize that meant being ignored so _that_ you could be a playboy."   

Irial winced... _that was below the belt._

Crispin shook his head, trying to say something, stiffening and burying his face into Irial's neck as a gaggle of girls passed by.  They remained tense and silent as they passed, Irial's head tilted back against the wall, one hand carding absently through his hair while the other gripped his waist tightly.  When they'd passed, Crispin guided Irial down the hallway, teeth clenched, tugging him into the men's bathroom, skeevy and shady for sure, and Crispin locked them in a stall, immediately pressing Irial back against the door, hands cupping Irial's face to lock their gazes.   

"I _know_ Beatrice Learner is a bitch; in seven years, she hasn't changed at all.  So, yes, I'm quite aware she's trying to shag me, but you know better than that," Crispin said, voice dropping and expression softening as he searched Irial's eyes, the fight slowly leaving Irial who unclenched his fists to run his hands up Crispin's sides.  "I'm yours, babe," Crispin whispered again Irial's lips, hands fisting in Irial's hair and tugging gently.   

Irial smirked against Crispin's lips, letting the tension leave his body and rolling his eyes as he kissed Crispin deeply, lips parting, tongues tangling together, moans harmonizing, hands running over each other's bodies with the familiarity and longing.  It had been way too long...Irial fucking hated touring.  He pulled back and whispered into Crispin's mouth, "Prove it."   

"We've got like five minutes before the boys get the cake," Crispin warned but given the way he was grinding into Irial, he cared just about as much,   

Huffing, Irial shrugged, "Not like their gonna cut it without you."  Knowing their friends, they might, but Irial didn't particularly care, especially when Crispin sunk to his knees in front of Irial, shaking hands fumbling with the button of his jeans.  Cake vs. a blowjob from his gorgeous fiancé that he hadn't seen in weeks: no competition.

* * *

Everyone cheered and clapped while Cris blew out his birthday candles, a huge smile on his face and almost all of his best friends around him.  Irial's hand rubbed his backside gently, beaming at Cris as he sipped his mojito; he straightened and hip checked Irial, stealing his drink with a cheeky smile and saying, "Holy crap, this is like a celebration."   

"It's like a birthday," Irial gasped.   

"What?"  Crispin teased, throwing an arm around Irial's shoulders and pulling him tighter to his side, "I thought we were celebrating Harry still possessing a job after staging a coup."   

Everyone in the know laughed while everyone else with the exception of nosy, pushy Beatrice, grabbed slices of the cake and dispersed around the room.  Harry just snorted from where he had slung an arm around Rosie, both of them leaning against the bar; Rosie already nibbled on a slice of cake the size of her head, "It's more like a stay of execution because Dissident doesn't want to deal with you.  Downside, I have to go on tour with you, but plus side, I have total control... _finally_."   

The sentiment was echoed by the band, Rosie, and Irial.  Cris laughed and shook his head, eating off Irial's fork when he offered him some cake.  Beatrice raised her eyebrows at the pair of them, seething; Cris ignored her, leaning more heavily on him and looking down at him, "Nervous?"   

"Are you?"  Irial shrugged, "I've done this already."   

Cris hummed thoughtfully, anxiety making his stomach clench tightly and twist; he was excited and nervous and anxious and terrified for a thousand different reasons he wasn't sure he could even express.  Irial seemed to understand, looking at him softly and dropping his voice to whisper, "It's alright, love.  I'll be right here; I'm not going anywhere.  Everything's gonna be alright."   

His whole body just relaxed, deflated; world righting and realigning the way it only ever did around Irial.  Cris stared at Irial, recommitting everything about him to memory, soaking him, and allowing himself to believe that everything would be because Irial said so, and Irial would do everything in his power (and probably some not) to make that a reality.

* * *

**Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
There is no fear now let go and just be free I will love you unconditionally so open up your heart and just let it begin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's almost that time...six more chapters O.O  
> And Tyrion married Sansa. An John Snow just keeps missing everything. And Osha's leaving Bran. Like OMFG what is going on with this show?


	55. "It's Easy" Mia Sable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cris takes everybody by surprise, and we get a new perspective on the boy.

**Cheryl Taylor (@Cherrie_TA)**  
Crazy concert in Brighton @breakingfourth wrecked in...and @DorianII Tweeted them random bs #ConcertCrasher #DontTextWhileDrunk #LifeLessons  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
Was dared to lick a pussy, got eggs thrown at me by an Oscar nominee, was bashed by Grimmy, broke my bf's ipod b/c of flappy bird :/ #ThingsThatHappenInStudio #FreakyFriday  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@DorianII how was your first pussy? #ShouldIBeConcerned? #ShouldIBeJelly?  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
@Cris_Emerson VERY fuzzy/hairy, (thankfully) declawed but mean w/ big ears and scary glowy eyes XD #noandno #WeinersRule #JunebugShouldBeJellyTho  
  
To: crossesoflead@gmail.com.uk  
Cc: wildechild@gmail.com.uk  
From: sterling.harry@dissidentmanagement.org.uk  
Subject: Atlanta Fox News Interview  
Cris,  
Breaking Fourth's first appearance in the US will be the interview with Fox 5 entertainment in Atlanta. During that interview, you'll obviously (like always) be asked about your relationships during which time you can confirm you're seeing someone, that it's serious, but be as vague as possible about a) gender and b) the length of time you've been seeing each other. I don't want to touch on that definitively until you announce Irial's identity.  
Hope you're ready for this,  
Harry Benton-Sterling  
Dissident Management  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
@breakingfourth concert at the O2 in London was brill :D even @rosieposie and @holdtheirish thought so #DontLie  #YouLovedIt #EspeciallyAfterDrinkingMyVodka  
  
 **RT by @DorianII, @Cherrie_TA**  
 **Dorian Speaks Update (@darlingdori)**  
Starting September 1 #DorianSpeaks will be live streamed!!!!! #ImExcited #AboutTime #WelcomeToThe21stCentury  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
@Cherrie_TA @Cris_Emerson: who is this guy (re: @darlingdori)? He knows everything O.O  
  
 **RT by @DorianII, @Cris_Emerson**  
 **This is Shauna (@ShaunatheDead)**  
OMG I saw @DorianII and @Cris_Emerson at the VA: Shadow-Kiss midnight premiere #bestdayever #isitstillday #Whatever #LifeComplete  
  
 **Angelika D. (@Angelic_A)**  
@Cris_Emerson and @DorianII are inseparable on B4's pre-US leg break #NotWeirdAtAll #TheyBothHaveLovebitesToo #justsaying  
  
 **Nikoleta the Kinsey (@Nics_Nik)**  
Saw @Cris_Emerson and @DorianII cuddling at McDonalds #WishIGotAPic #Cuteness #AllIWantedWasASoda #serendipity  
  
 **RT by @debunkcrisial**  
 **Crisial Updates (@CrisialUpdates)**  
2wk break in London & Crisial have been attached at the hip and public. I smell something coming #Crisial #CrisialIsReal #CrisialComeOut  
  
 **Crisial is Fake (@debunkcrisial)**  
I swear Crisial shippers are mental. Give it up. Been 4yrs, theyd be out by now!!!! #Crisial #CrisialIsFake #CrisialComeOut #ThisIsBullshit

* * *

Cris had grown up in seven years...a lot.   

Obviously, that was a given, and Beatrice wasn't exactly _surprised_ by his physical maturity so much as she was by his emotional maturity as well.  She had always been one of those people who pictured people clearly in her mind the way that they had been when she'd last seen them, regardless of whether or not that was reasonable and regardless of whether or not she'd seen them in the press recently (and she's definitely seen Cris in the tabloids).   

For the last seven years, Beatrice had pictured the gangly, awkward sixteen-year-old she'd dated back in 2011 with a boyish smile, a short mop of dark kinky curls, and golden eyes that sparkled with mirth.  He'd always had an old soul, she supposed, if a streak of immaturity particularly when it came to his humor, but that had been the price she'd paid for dating someone five years her junior.  She'd still been clawing her way into the billboard charts, and he'd been fresh-off-the-line wholesome pop superstar in a boyband that had already begun to take the UK and most of mainland Europe by storm.  Cris had been a sweetheart if a tad too sophomoric devolving into downright childish when with his bandmates, and Beatrice had slaved away for three years while attending university to make her dreams come true.   

The sex had been adequate.   

Sex wasn't enough; she'd saved them from the inevitable pride-born drama.   

Cris, though, was no longer a child physically, emotionally, mentally, or professionally.  He'd grown out of his teenage awkwardness that had endeared him to preteens everywhere years ago and grown into the body of a sexy 22 year old man, long-limbed and muscular, charming and cheeky, suave and urbane, toned and lightly tanned.  His mop of fluffy curls had grown out into intense waves or near ebony that brushed his shoulders unless he tied it back with smooth practiced motions.  His molten golden eyes still sparkled with mirth but also held a mischievous glint to them as well as an attentive sincerity and bright thoughtfulness both unsettling and attractive.  You could _see_ he was smart from the get-go.  Cris's age dropped by five years every time he sat in a room with his best friends, and he still made dirty jokes that didn't amuse anyone with class in the slightest, but he'd grown up, grown _settled_ , grown into himself in a way that had made Beatrice's mouth water years ago and libido straighten up in red alert, saying maybe it was time to try again.   

After all, they hadn't ended due to fighting or anything, just combination of their differing levels of profession experience and success, maturity, and awareness of what they wanted from life that had created a five year age difference that seemed insurmountable.   

Except Cris didn't seem interested, which pissed Beatrice off more than she wanted to admit.  

It had been years since she'd been rejected by a man, especially one she already had sexual history with. 

Angel that Cris was, he hadn't been rude about his rejection either, not obvious about it particularly in front of his bandmates like he hadn't wanted to embarrass her.  Still, she couldn't help but be a little taken aback, a little offended, and piqued in interest.  She might be nearly thirty, but she had never been in better shape, more successful, or more beautiful; they were both young, beautiful, and in close proximity.  It should have been a no-brainer, straight forward, no questions asked, except it hadn't been, which had only motivated her to try harder.  Cris had never been able to resist her seven years ago, wouldn't be able to now.  Now, it was a challenge, _he_ was a challenge, which was why she sat at the back of the room that had been set up for an interview in Atlanta, Georgia in jean shorts and a tank top that left little to the imagination, hair tied back into a stylish ponytail and legs swinging aimlessly while she sipped a Coke, eyes on the five boys being interviewed.  

The tension of their management team was palpable, but Beatrice didn't bother to wonder why; after traveling with the boys for the last month, she'd surmised that Dissident could be categorized by two words: hot mess.  

Beatrice shrugged it off, tuning back into the interview and ignoring the glacial looks that most of Breaking Fourth's crew shot her.  Whatever, she so didn't get what the hell their problem was; it's not like she ran over someone's puppy/baby/otp so they could all go fuck themselves or spit it the fuck out, seriously.  

"You recently released a third single from your album, which...another love song?  You had 'Meant To Be' and 'Together'—"   

"Since when is 'Together' a love song?"  Dominic balked dramatically, looking at the other boys, "Is the fanfic all true?  Are we all in a polyamorous relationship with each other?"   

"I'm not sure that's healthy.  We're all entirely too high maintenance for that," Cris mused.   

"And _some of us_ ," Micah shot a significant look at Cris, "are far too possessive."   

Raising an eyebrow, Beatrice cocked her head and studied Cris who seemed unfettered and smiled impishly, turning to Benji, "Told you to stop collaring your girlfriends, mate."   

The boys laughed while the interviewer tried to wrangle back her interview from the boys.  They were notorious for their tendency to derail interviews and takeover, talking amongst themselves; their were very few people who actually seemed to be able to let them behave in that sweetly adorable and obviously tight-knit bubble of friendship and still steer an interview, all of them back in London, and no one with the ease that Irial Dorian and Cheryl Atterberry did...really, they ought to give a seminar: 'How To Properly Interview Breaking Fourth'.  

Irial Dorian...   

Beatrice grimaced.   

"Your newest single, 'The Haves', is slower, sweeter, definitely a tear-jerker but still somehow hopeful, I hear," she began, and the boys nodded while Cris leaned into Micah's side, eyeing their interviewer with trepidation.  Beatrice quirked an eyebrow while the interviewer charged ahead, happy to find the boys cooperating and not cutting her off mid-word to go off on semi-relevant tangents that quickly spiraled out into left-field.  "Which, beautiful song that's already been nominated for a Brit Award, is definitely surrounded by some controversy already."  

Management froze except for the youngest member of their publicity team, Harry Benton-Sterling who looked composed and collected, even upon receiving a desperate look from Cris.  The boys had never been so still or so quiet, obviously agitated, and Cris looked heavenward for a moment before his eyes flitted back to the interviewer.  Beatrice's eyebrows climbed higher.   

"They often are, aren't they?"  Micah intercepted.   

"I've been hearing about these Crisial shippers and theories that Irial Dorian," Beatrice rolled her eyes and scowled, " _your_ best friend," she pointed to Cris who smiled softly automatically while Benji pinched his leg, "had part of the lyrics tattooed on him nearly a year ago."  

Glancing once more at Harry, Cris forged ahead, shrugging, "He did."  

Their interviewer sputtered, obviously not prepared to actually have that confirmed.  His bandmates snuck looks at him that clearly questioned where he planned on going with things now that he'd said them.  Cris ignored everyone, though, and Beatrice narrowed her eyes.  She'd heard the rumors, head the conspiracy theories about the 'Crisial shippers', but that didn't mean she believed them.  Beatrice had dated Cris long enough to know that he definitely wasn't gay. 

"I wrote the chorus for that song while we were on our world tour _for_ Irial," Cris admitted, nonplussed.   

His bandmates started, glancing at a stiff Harry; Dominic and Cris sharing a glance before Benji startled, seeming to come to a realization as Cris discreetly poked him in the side, "Right, right, the poem that you wrote to make him feel better about all the anti-gay protesting?"   

Everyone seemed to breath better as Cris nodded, "Exactly.  He loved it.  It meant a lot to him and got it tattooed."   

Dominic jumped in quickly, "We only just put the poem to music and wrote the verses when we started writing for the album.  Found the draft at his house and decided to turn it into a song.  Really, it was a lot of fun."   

Beatrice didn't believe it for a second, and for a moment, their interviewer looked like a starving animal ready to go in for the kill, but Harry stopped her, signaling that she should move on.  Beatrice didn't quite know what to make of it; 'Crisial' wasn't just some fringe ship that supported a brotp.  This was some sort of glowing gold Peter Pan fairy dusted flying machine kind of shit where people genuinely believed that they were together, garnering a lot of inter-fandom warring, inappropriate Tweets to people that ought not be involved, and a hell of a lot of friction and tension for everyone involved.  She'd met Irial, seen him with Cris, and narrowed her eyes on Cris who looked forced calm, too still, too calm, twisting the ring on his middle finger nervously.  Why so much secrecy and anxiety surrounding the song, a tattoo, and Irial?  If Beatrice hadn't known that Crispin Emerson was undoubtedly straight, she might even consider the possibility of 'Crisial', especially after Irial's hostility towards her and Cris's uncomfortable adoration and attachment to him.   

"Well, you boys have so many songs about love, romance, breaking up—"   

"Shagging?"  Dominic waggled his eyebrows.   

Benji sighed and dropped his head into his hands.  Cris shook his head, smiling, while Micah leaned across Cris to smack the younger, outspoken boy in the head.  Their interviewer laughed, "That too.  So, I've got to ask, who's single?"   

"Me," Benji shrugged.   

Then silence.   

Beatrice's heart pounded.  Cris couldn't be dating, right?   

"Only Benji?"  Their interviewer asked pointedly.   

Exactly...what?  Even when Cris had been in relationships, he never confirmed them outright.  Roundabout comments, mentions on Twitter, or admissions about where he'd been with a certain woman being the only 'confirmation' the public had ever received about any of his relationships.  Hell, he'd confirmed their relationship years ago by turning beet red and shrugging when Jonathan Ross had asked him about it before mumbling out a muffled, "I guess, sort of."   

"Benji's a lone wolf on this one," Dominic laughed, though he seemed strained.  Cris patted his arm in silent comfort.  Beatrice had spent enough time with Cris (and the boys by extension since he never seemed to want to be alone with her) to know that constant traveling and distance and busy schedules were taking their toll on Dominic and his mixologist girlfriend, Beverly Dixon, no matter how taken with her he was.  It was tapering off, though not for lack of trying on either of their parts.  "Bev and I are still together."   

The 'for now' went unspoken.   

"A little over a year now, they've made it," Micah said proudly, a sympathetic note in his voice.   

Nearly bouncing out of her seat with excitement, the interviewer turned to Micah, "You've got the longest running relationship of the band.  Been with your girlfriend almost two years now, yeah?"   

Micah nodded and grinned dopily, obviously very much in love with his annoying, loud-mouthed, foul-tempered girlfriend, Cheryl aka Cherrie.  Beatrice had never gotten on with her, and their acquaintance-ship had only soured ever more at Cris's birthday, "Yeah, we've been together...feels like forever."   

"Such a sap," Dominic laughed.   

"Shut up," Micah snapped while Cris snickered, sharing a knowing look with the other boys.   

"And you're engaged?"   

"Yep," Micah nodded, "bit of a lengthy engagement, but we're slowly but surely making decisions."   

The air in the room seemed to be sucked out when she turned to Cris with a wide, excited smile on her face; Cris relaxed into the boys, shoulders rolling back, steeling himself, "The infamous Cris Emerson has another girlfriend?"  She was teasing; it was a joke, but none of the other boys seemed impressed, making faces that would no doubt be splashed across Tumblr within minutes of this interview being released.   

"I'm seeing someone," Cris confirmed, eyes glazing over as he thought about whoever the hell she was, a dopy, soft, ridiculously fond smile splitting across his face.  A smile that she'd seen before...recently...that niggled at her.  When the hell had she seen him smile like that?  Never at any of his girlfriends over the last seven years and never at her....so, _when_?   

"Oh?  Who is she?  When did this start?  And what's this I hear about you getting back with a certain gorgeous ex of yours?"   

Cris laughed nervously, blushing and shaking his head, "Ah, no, not back together with Bea.  I think it's probably better that that stays buried."   

"If you like your relationship," Dominic pointed out.   

Grinning, Cris nodded and laughed genuinely, glowing, "Definitely.  Doesn't share well, that one."  The boys all broke out into peels of laughter while Cris shook his head, biting his bottom lip and continuing before the interviewer could continue, "I mean, it's not like my past relationships.  I've never ever felt anything like this before for anyone.  We're not just...we've been together a while."   

"You're twenty-two!  How long's 'a while'?  A week?  A month?  Three months?"   

Chuckling nervously, Cris rubbed the back of his neck, shook his head, blushing but still grinning fondly, "A while," he repeated firmly.   

"So you're quite serious then?"   

"Quite," Cris met the interviewer's gaze levelly, tone absolute.   

"Crissy," Benji said affectionately, throwing an arm around Cris's shoulders, and beamed, "thinks he's found 'the one'."   

Cris blushed and elbowed him in the side but didn't disagree with that assessment of the situation.  The interviewer smiled, "So you're quite in love with her then?"   

"I am," Cris smiled impossibly wider.   

Beatrice narrowed her eyes: what the actual fuck?   

"And are we ever going to get to meet this great love of yours?"   

"It's not like they're shoved under my bed into hiding.  We're just taking things slow.  The press can be really overwhelming, and the last thing either of us want is to dive head first into a media maelstrom that could potentially be the nail in the coffin of our relationship."   

Micah rolled his eyes, and Dominic scoffed, "'Maelstrom' he says.  Get a load of this guy.  That vocabulary is why he writes all our songs."  

_Who the hell had captured the heart of that sexy man, and how the hell did she take him back?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is March and I am watching This Christmas...okay. Also it's my birthday in one week!!!!!!!!!! I'm so old.


	56. "Same Love" Macklemore & Ryan Lewis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cris gets very very real on Dorian speaks

**RT by @DorianII, @Nic_Kinsey, @BenjiDIrving, @rosieposie, @sorensoars**  
 **Ariella Emerson (@Ariella_Em106)**  
Aw my bro @Cris_Emerson is so cute when he's all starry-eyed and smitten :) #Sowhipped #proud #LoveLooksGoodOnYou  
  
 **The Crissy Gurl (@Crissy93_xxx)**  
WAAAATTTT!!!!??? @Cris_Emerson got a gf? #NotOkay #WhatIsLife #HeActuallyConfirmed  
  
 **Son of Man (@andersonM609)**  
Someone (re: @Cris_Emerson) was very gender unspecific #justsaying  
  
 **Crisial Updates (@CrisialUpdates)**  
I want to believe its time but don't want to get our hopes up #Crisial #Nervous #Excited #CrisInLove  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
Was asked to post pic of my BOB in my arse on Instagram. Is it wrong my only reaction was "boo, that's what Tumblr's for"?  
  
 **Crisial Is Fake (@debunkcrisial)**  
Can Crisial shippers try to support their idol and not become the Larry shippers even more than they already are #sorrynotsorry #deludedshippers #CrisialIsFake  
  
 **Cris Emerson: a changed man?**  
The last seven years has seen British heartthrob and part of boyband, Breaking Fourth, with every woman from young Disney star, Chloe Masters, to Azadi singer, Alina, to socialite, Davina, to supermodel 10 years his senior, Lavonne.  However, the last nine months since public split with ex, Davina Allard, the popstar has been suspiciously quiet on the dating front until announcing on an interview with Atlanta's Fox 5 that he's "in love", found "the one", and it's "quite serious" already, which sent both Twitter and Tumblr into a tizzy.  After years of tireless dating, do we truly think he's settling down?  Dorian does, at least, weighing in when asked by a caller and saying "Crispin's extremely clear-headed, loyal to a fault, and driven.  They're both in if for the long haul, I absolutely believe that."  And if you're wondering about Cris's rekindling relationship with Beatrice Learner, the popstar, whose been candid if stingy on the details, commented "Bea and I are mending fences, but that part of my life is over. There's no competition, the person I'm with wins every time and always has."  Right now, the boy seems smitten and stable, but, despite Dorian's assurances, whose to say yet?  
  
 **RT by @breakingfourth, @Cherrie_TA, @DorianII, @HaroldBSterling, @Ariella_Em106**  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
Everybody listen into #DorianSpeaks today. I have something big to share #Nervous

* * *

"Holy mother of..." Irial huffed, scrubbing manically at his totally screwy face while Cheryl giggled, snapping pictures of him with her mobile.  He huffed, realizing that the paint wasn't coming off any time soon...because Cheryl was _that_ cruel, "God, we should have done the Draw My Life tag today instead.  I look like a zombie drag queen that escaped from a haunted circus."   

"Or an Arkham escapee," Larry chipped in from the back, and Cheryl laughed.   

Irial pursed his lips, "Thank you, Larry, who is no longer an intern..."   

"Congrats!"   

"...but may soon be unemployed if he keeps 'helping'."   

Larry held up his hands innocently, their newest intern, this tiny, spritely 19 year old from King's College, Gigi, giggling.  Her chittering caught Cheryl's attention, "Which means that the lovely Gigi is our newest whipping boy, so watch out there Gigi."  Gigi yelped and ducked her head while Irial snickered, and Cheryl beamed, patting Irial's cheek, "I think your...ehm... _makeover_ is quite complimentary to your bone structure, Iri."   

"Oh you're a real gem."   

"Thank you."   

"Next time, I'll do _your_ makeup blindfolded, how does that sound?"   

He smirked as Cheryl shifted uncomfortably, pursing her lips and shaking her head frantically because: no.  Obviously no one of the female persuasion wanted someone to blindfold themselves and then do their makeup, but Irial figured that was a human thing since _he_ certainly hadn't wanted it either.  Cheryl's eyes lit up, "Oh look who's calling: Cris Emerson!"   

Rolling his eyes, Irial answered, "Cris you're sort of interrupting something here."   

"I see, if you need a minute to wash that...stuff off your face, I'll be more than happy to call back.  You look like the Walking Dead creative department threw up on you."   

Sighing, Irial shook his head while Cheryl sniggered again; Irial whacked her in the side, and she flailed, tumbling off her seat.  Surprised, Irial blinked down at her before adjust his headphones and shaking his head, "How's our tour coming along?"   

A beat of silence, and Cheryl used Irial's leg to yank herself up from the floor (or try to pull him down, he wasn't entirely sure).  She flicked him in cheek, and he swatted her hand away,  reaching up to screw with her hair and sticking his tongue out when she glared at him, " _Our_ tour?  We're being far too productive for you to have joined, even clandestinely."   

Irial scoffed, "Oi!  You were productive when I went the last time."   

Crispin snorted, "No, I was perpetually exhausted."   

"Shouldn't you be better about jet-lag, considering all the flying you do?"  Cheryl mused.   

"Shouldn't you be picking out a color scheme for your wedding?"   

"Red and black," Cheryl barked out a laugh, looking over at Irial who blushed even as he rolled his eyes and shook his head, hiding his face in his hands.   

"My kind of color scheme."   

"So I've heard."   

" _Anyway_ ," Irial cut them both off abruptly, "I simply believe that 'cultural exposure' should go beyond the continental breakfast in the hotel, and I don't remember hearing you complain about your exhaustion."   

Cheryl burst out a laugh, taking a swig of her water and shaking her head.   

"Invigorating and satisfying, certainly, despite the lack of slumber."   

Sniggering into her palm, Cheryl shook her head, blue and purple hair falling into her face; Irial glanced sideways at her and grinned, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth before he rolled his eyes and went on, "Right, then, so for all of you who are caught unaware, we've got Crispin Emerson from Breaking Fourth on the line, and I never said a proper hello.  Hello Crispin."   

"Hello Irial."   

Trying to even her breathing, Cheryl looked up at the ceiling, grinning and shaking her head.  Irial stared at her through narrowed eyes for a moment as she began to laugh quiet again, face going red.  He pushed her off her chair, gently...but still, "Where are you today?"   

"Orlando, Florida, United States of America..."   

"Are you going to give me an address, postal code, and exact coordinates too?"   

"Depends on if you're going to push Cheryl off her chair again; Micah votes no."   

"Micah doesn't get a vote," Irial chirped while Cheryl shot him a look.  He tossed her a cheeky smile.  "And how are you enjoying Orlando?"   

"Considering it's only like ten o'clock, I've only seen the inside of the hotel and the airport, and I had to wake up at the crack of dawn for our flight from New Orleans...I'm not impressed."   

"Any big plans today?"  Cheryl asked, "Disney World?  Universal?  Seaworld?  Epcot?"   

"Isn't Epcot for like senior citizens and boring adults?"  Irial questioned.  Cheryl pursed her lips and shrugged.   

Crispin laughed, "Sleep?"   

"Clearly, you boys do need me.  _Boooorrrring_!"   

"And talking to you obviously, Iri."   

"Obviously, this moment will be the highlight of your day, Crispin, cherish it."   

"Sure, sure, elf," Crispin chuckled.   

Cheryl and Irial shared a glance, deciding to slide this interview back on track.  Irial could hear the nerves grating in Crispin's voice and had spent the morning before Crispin's flight and Irial's entire lunch respectively talking on the phone and Skyping with Crispin, listening to him stress and freak out and run through all the possible ways that this could go wrong over and over in his mind.  He'd been mildly contented when Irial reminded him that this was him and Cheryl, not an interviewer that would search for weak points just to press on them or ask inane questions that would trip Crispin up.   

In fact, he'd been so nervous that Irial had instituted a text ban because he couldn't really handle trying to read the misspelled, confusing, never ending stream of shaky texts.  In the end, Irial had been reduced to calling Harry and ordering him to prep Crispin again and stay with him to help him through the interview.  All the boys had agreed as well without being asked, though they knew Crispin would be fine, and, chances were, the backlash from this particular interview would be minimal.  The press would either call Crispin an attention whore like they tended to when it came to celebrities claiming bisexuality (which Iri understood, really) or just go on talking about all the numerous women he was with or had been with or would be with because he was a gentleman and bought her a drink at a club.   

Crispin had reverted to sending nervous snapshots of his face, the boys, Harry, or the view of cookie-cutter Suburban Florida from out his window while Irial had replied in turn.   

"So, Crissy, you said you've got something you want to announce today," Cheryl prompted.   

Irial heard Crispin draw in a shaky breath, "Not going solo again, are we?  Look, there's only so many times you can confirm and deny that before I just wash my hands of you and your indecisiveness."   

"God, no, why does everyone keep saying that?"  Crispin huffed, voice still tight but sounding much more relaxed.

**Crispin:** What if I'm not ready for this?

**Irial:** Your choice, love. Can you handle not being ready for this, though?   

"I don't know.  I suppose it's just time to be honest."   

"He's Hannah Montana!"  Cheryl called, miming 'yes' with a fist pump dramatically.   

"It would be Bucky Kentucky," Irial intoned demurely, patting her head, "now let the nice boy finish."   

"I mean I'm in a boyband, right, so there's been a lot of speculation already, though people just seem to assume I'm 100% heterosexual while Dominic is, apparently, some popstar child for metrosexuality, which... _Dominic_?"   

"I think we're getting a little off topic," Cheryl pointed out, eyebrows furrowed and eyes darting desperately to Irial to thrown his boyfriend a life raft.   

Irial nodded, "Now, now, Crispin let's back up and rephrase before the whole world turns you into some poster child for homosexuality, which, wrong, we both know that's me between the two of us."   

Crispin laughed weakly, "Yeah, I mean I'm not 'gay'.  I'm pansexual?"   

"Are you _asking_ me?"   

"I was actually sort of hoping you already knew," Crispin shot back, cheeky and biting.   

Grinning, the knots in his stomach loosening when Crispin pushed back; Irial shrugged, "I guess I must not have been listening for almost four years.  You should speak louder, Crispin, clearly."   

"Maybe you should be a better listener.  What's it they say to _children_ : 'put your listening ears on'?"   

"I resent that!"   

"Okay, boys," Cheryl cut in, "let's back up a step.  Pansexual?  Is this the part when you say you secretly worship the Greek god of the wild or where you talk about how this is the posh new word for bisexuality that's going to be all the rage in Hollywood in another six months, as we know all the best trends begin in Britain."   

"God of the wild?"  Irial balked at her, "What are you going on about?"   

"Pan: Greek god of the wild."   

"Oh my God, you know people still write books in this century, but I'd settled if you at least ventured out of the time of no toilet paper, a serious lack of personal hygiene, and a rocks as paper into like Romanticism or Victorian fiction.  I'll _settle_ ," Irial promised dramatically.   

Cheryl punched him in the arm.  Crispin hummed thoughtfully over the line before admitting, "I want to say it's a bit like bisexuality, but it's not as much a cop-out, if that makes any sense.  Bisexuality—I'm sorry—is a bit of a far-fetched concept to me.  Irial doesn't like it."   

Irial grimaced, "I don't believe in bisexuality.  Plus, it ruins the foundation homosexuals have to stand on.  We can say that we have a right to be gay because it's a gene.  Scientists have found the chromosome.  Animals have been gay—"   

"Like those penguins in New York?"   

"Right," Irial nodded at Cheryl, grateful for her help even as she played the nice bad cop in this scenario, "but there's no gene for bisexuality.  You can't be _both_ sorry not sorry.  And it ruins the foundation for the gay rights movement when they push for it.  You can be bi-curious but no one swings both ways forever."   

"Still haven't explained pansexuality.  How is it like bisexuality?"   

"I mean, I don't really think it is.  Bisexuality is saying you're sexually attracted to both genders, which...I'm not too sure about it; it's one thing to find both genders attractive and beautiful, but sexually attracted?  I'm not so sure.  Pansexuality, though, isn't about being sexually attracted to a gender, but kind of looking beyond that.  Can I make like a really stupid extended metaphor?"   

"Please do," Cheryl said thoughtfully, "because I'm still convinced it's a cop-out."   

"You would."   

Crispin chuckled, "It's a bit like this: say women are wine and men are beer, yeah?  Heterosexuals like one or the other depending on their own gender, same with the gays."   

"So Irial likes beer, hates wine, and I like beer and hate wine just the same?"   

"Right.  Bisexuals claim they like both exactly the same.  Pansexuality, though, is like, sniffing both the wine and the beer while blindfolded and then saying 'I like whatever this is' regardless of whether it's wine or beer, male or female, simply because you like the way it smells, the way it tastes, who that person is."   

"And the sex?"   

"Well, naturally," Irial and Crispin replied simultaneously.  Irial continued, "So, you, princess, fall in like/love," Cheryl rolled her eyes at him, "with a person in spite of their gender."   

"Exactly, which really is something everybody should do.  People would be much happier, I think," Crispin remarked impishly.  "I mean, I've dated girls and guys simply because I liked them."   

"You dated _two_ guys, let's not get crazy."   

"So did you!  Does that make you any less gay, Irial Mackenzie?"   

"Touché," Irial scowled, "what's next a tranny?  A crossdresser?"   

"Didn't _you_ date a crossdresser?"  Cheryl pressed, raising her eyebrows at Irial.   

Irial bit his lip and wrinkled his nose, "We didn't _date_."   

"I think I'd be very much confused by the latter," Cris answered.   

"Can't imagine why.  He was very much a man when I shagged him...but a fabulous woman when we met.  Does that make me pansexual, Crispin?"   

"Only in your own mind, Iri."   

Cheryl shook her head at Irial as he leaned back in his seat, flipping through all the mentions about this on Twitter (#pansexuality _and_ #CrisLikesTheD) were both already trending (as was #Crisial but he let that go for now).  She pointed out a common question, and Irial nodded at her, "So, here's what I want to know now that I'm not sitting here about to end our friendship because you're becoming attention seeker Lady Gaga: why now?  I mean, you've kept this secret for quite a while and probably could have kept going with it; why was it so important you told your fans, the world, _now_?"   

Crispin takes a moment to think that over, and Irial sends him a text message.

**Irial:** Just be honest without mentioning your PR directives, love

**Irial:** Tell them what you told mgmt when you asked them   

Irial doesn't even have to be on the same planet as Crispin to feel the paradigm shift in him when he gets those texts.  He doesn't text back, but he does draw in a breath, words coming out that lack the hesitation and anxiety that they'd been soaked in throughout the interview.   

"I'm in a really good place in my life, it's a place I haven't been in, this safe and comfortable and settled and stable in a really long time.  It's not right and it's not fair and, frankly, it's not healthy to hide a part of myself this important to me, and never has been even when I wanted to because I thought it was the right thing to do."   

Cheryl slanted a sideways look at Irial who inclined his head just slightly, and she pressed, "So it has nothing to do with this important relationship in your life?"   

"Of course it does," Crispin answered confidently, "but not really in the way everyone is going to assume.  My relationship is...wonderful and amazing and more than I ever expected and the best one I've ever had in my life and probably ever will.  We're both really comfortable in who we are, and, because of that, the more I continued to hide, the more I felt like I was ashamed of it, of my past, of that part of myself.  This is just really important to me, to be honest about my sexuality regardless of who I'm dating, male or female; people should know that there are people out there who don't fall into societal labels, don't want to, and they don't have to either.  Pansexuality's really underrepresented, I think.  I think a lot more people are pansexual than even they realize, because your sexuality may be a gene but the brain is a miraculous thing.  Sometimes love is more important than gender, and I don't think that's talked about enough.  It's okay to be who you are, even if it doesn't fit into a neat societal label.  It's okay to fall in love with someone for who they are and not the genitalia they possess.  And I think that being honest and open about who you are is the greatest gift you can give not only the world but also yourself regardless of the consequences.  People, especially people in this industry, try too hard to hide something that makes them who they are, and it shouldn't matter who I'm dating or what their gender is: at the end of the day I'm a pansexual and chemistry is more important than gender, that's who I am and there's nothing wrong with that."   

Irial ducked his head and smiled into his hands, shaking his head as he typed into his cellphone.

**Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
So proud of my little princess @Cris_Emerson for that really empowering speech about sexuality #Congrats #Pansexuality #PropsToMyPrincess  
  
Rosie, it seems, had felt the same way as well.

**Irish Rose (@rosieposie)**  
Check out @Cris_Emerson giving us pansexuals a good name #LoveYouBabe #Proud #CrisEmerson  
  
 **Irial** : You did amazing love :*

**Irial** : Very impassioned. The activists will be knocking down your door soon

**Crispin:** ily  <3 come see me in nyc?

**Irial:** To c gay penguins?

**Crispin:** Preferably me...

**Irial:** Yeah, I guess you're alright too  <3 I'm so proud of you, princess.

**Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
Truth is truth #sorrynotsorry #serendipity #dorianspeaks #honestly  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@rosieposie @DorianII I couldn't have made it without you #GayPenguins #Strength #FallInNYC #KissesAndHearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Pan, the Greek god, that's a thing, and I learned about him by reading Percy Jackson and the Olympians...those are good books. And the Egyptian ones too, but, I mean, this new series with the Roman gods just...I can't. Pansexuality, bisexuality, it is what it is. I have bisexual friends. I am pansexual. I don't mean to offend anyone; I just feel the way I feel about it and so does my character. Also, he totally came out because of Irial. I mean, let's be honest, even though it's probably way better to come out as pansexual or bisexual at some point to someone regardless of who you're dating, who actually does unless it's relevant?


	57. "My Wish" Rascal Flatts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A whole lot of stuff happens. Cris pulls a Tom Daley. And Derek Havershim just isn't getting the memo.

**Monday, September 24**  
  
 **10-24-18!!!!! (@sour23_serena)**  
@Cris_Emerson likes girls AND boys ^.^ #KnewIt #Crisial #CrisEmerson #pansexuality #PropsYoMyBoy  
  
 **For The Win (@wish_4_Cris)**  
wtf? Cris is *sort of* bi?! #WhatIsLive #CantEven #CrisEmerson #pansexuality #CrisLikesBoys  
  
 **Mrs. Irving (@missyMayI)**  
@Cris_Emerson turned into a gay #NotOkay #Ew #gay #WhatIsThisBullshit #BlameingDorian #CrisialShippersSuck  
  
 **Crisial Updates (@CrisialUpdates)**  
@Cris_Emerson confirmed he's pansexual #proud #lgbtp #Crisial #CrisEmerson #TheBoyLikesDickToo #CrisialIsReal  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
Respect is a thing assholes #ignorance #homophobia #GetOverYourself  
  
 **Obsessive Olivia (@olive374_crisial)**  
CRISIAL please please please please #CrisLikesBoysToo #Crisial #CrisEmerson #pansexual #CrisialComeOut  
  
 **Irish Rose (@rosieposie)**  
@Cris_Emerson <3 #proud #PropsToMyBoy #HereForYou  
  
 **Crisial Is Fake (@debunkcrisial)**  
#proud @Cris_Emerson came out but don't be dumb this doesn't make Crisial real seriously  
  
 **Soren Reid (@sorensoars)**  
Congrats to @Cris_Emerson for being true to himself #proud #PropsToMyBoy #pansexual  
  
 **Ariella Emerson (@Ariella_Em106)**  
So proud of my brother @Cris_Emerson #PropsToMyBoy  
  
 **Nancy Drew Seely (@NandosNancy)**  
Still don't get why ppl assume #Crisial is a thing now @Cris_Emerson basically said this didnt mean he w/ a guy #justsaying  
  
 **Z (@Z_Nation_6781_)**  
@Cris_Emerson should burn in hell #gay #faggot #cocksucker  
  
 **Benji Irving (@BenjiDIrving)**  
@Cris_Emerson so proud man  
  
 **Dominic Kinsey (@Nic_Kinsey)**  
@Cris_Emerson it'll be tough but I'm here for you #proud #CrisEmerson #PropsToMyBoy  
  
 **Micah Cross (@MC_Cross)**  
@Cris_Emerson 'My Wish' Rascal Flatts...you get what I'm saying #proud #pansexual #PropsToMyBoy  
  
 **Beatrice Learner (@letitbea)**  
Well that explains a fucking lot, doesn't it? Dick move.  
  
 **AJG (@OfficialAJ)**  
Never thought @Cris_Emerson would be another attention seeking fame whore #BeSerious #CrisEmerson #doubtful #sorrynotsorry #PRStunt  
  
 **Deirdre Jeanine (@FullHomeDJ)**  
How about no? #CrisEmerson #WTAF #gay #NotOkayWithThis  
  
 **Ace in the hole (#Four65)**  
@Cris_Emerson should be proud of all the ppl he's helping by being honest #Thanks #panxeual #PropsToMyBoy #CrisEmerson #FuckTheHaters  
  
 **Azadi (@AzadiOfficial)**  
Proud of the bravery of @breakingfourth @Cris_Emerson for coming out as pansexual #CrisEmerson #PropsToMyBoy  
  
 **Holden Ireland (@holdtheirish)**  
I go for five minutes and come back to @Cris_Emerson breaking the internet lmfao smh #proud  
  
 **Penelope Dearly (@penney_dear)**  
@Cris_Emerson I've never been prouder  
  
 **Arthur Bailey (@ArthurBailey)**  
Proud of my friend @Cris_Emerson for coming out as a #proud #pansexual #PropsToMyBoy  
  
 **24-09-18 (@darlingdori)**  
Congrats to confirmed pansexual @Cris_Emerson #Crisial #proud #CrisEmerson #PropsToMyBoy  
  
 **Davina Allard (@DavinaTheWitch)**  
@Cris_Emerson I'm happy for you #proud #pansexual #PropsToMyBoy #CrisEmerson  
  
 **RT by @Cris_Emerson**  
 **Lucy Lou (@LucyGrey)**  
@Cris_Emerson :) #ily #proud #PropsToMyBoy #FuckTheHaters  
  
 **Annie <3 B4 (@Anna_banana86)**  
@Cris_Emerson came out as a pansexual #omg #excited #proud #pansexuality #CrisEmerson #PropsToMyBoy  
  
 **McLuvin (@ollymursgoodness)**  
Jamie Hensley, Tom Daley, @Cris_Emerson: finally courage in the industry #Thanks #Bravery #courage #proud #CrisEmerson #RoleModels #BritsDoItBetter

* * *

**Wednesday, September 26**  
  
 **Another 'out' celebrity and his possible girlfriend**  
Only two days ago, Breaking Fourth band member, Cris Emerson, announced on bff Irial Dorian's radio show that he identified as a pansexual and has "gone out with boys and girls."  The announcement came on the heels of Emerson admitting to being in a serious, committed relationship, words we haven't heard since he began dating Beatrice Learner in 2011 on the heels of the band's success (which naturally spurned rumors of a romance rekindling between them, though Crissy denied it).  And while the sort-of, kind-of coming out has boosted the fringe-dwelling 'Crisial shippers', most people seem more inclined to believe Crissy's secret girlfriend is, in fact, songwriter and freelance editor (as well as former flatmate and best friend of Irial Dorian), Rosie Ireland, who not only helped Cris's friend, Soren Reid, on his album but also assisted the writing on the last three Breaking Fourth albums as well.  The rumors sprang from her Tweet "<3 #proud #PropsToMyBoy#HereForYou" as well as Cris Emerson saying on Dorian Speaks that he'd come out not because of the gender of who he was dating but his comfort and confidence in his relationship and that person's continued support.  Considering he Tweeted only minutes after coming out a thank you to both Irish Rose and Dorian, we're certainly ready to hop on board this ship.

* * *

**Thursday, September 27**  
  
 **Group text between Rosie, Harry, Irial, and Cris**  
 **Irial:** You're cheating on my Potter child with my Crispin fiancé?  
 **Irial** : Homewrecker!!!!! ;D  
 **Rosie** : Not funny  
 **Harry** : How did I get involved?  
 **Cris** : Rosie, it was supposed to be our secret :(  
 **Rosie** : Srsly, my mom already called to yell at me  
 **Cris** : Fuck. She's gonna kill me  
 **Harry** : Run  
 **Irial** : Good thing you've always wanted to be in WITSEC  
 **Rosie** : He's not American. Can he be in WITSEC?  
 **Cris** : Fancy a vacay to Antarctica, babe?  
 **Harry** : O.0 you ever seen Iri in the cold????  
 **Irial** : Who said I was coming with slag?  
 **Cris** : :((((((((((((   D':  
 **Irial** : Make it Siberia and I could be convinced.  
 **Cris** : Could you? ;)  
 **Rosie** : I get the feeling this is quickly about to become sexual -.-

* * *

**Sunday, October 21**  
  
To: crossesoflead@gmail.com.uk; mustlovedogs@gmail.com.uk; djkinsey@gmail.com.uk; chriscrossedmicah@gmail.com.uk; sawyer.ashton@dissidentmanagement.org.uk; george.daniel@dissidentmanagement.org.uk  
Bcc: wildechilde@gmail.com.uk  
From: sterling.harry@dissidentmanagement.org.uk  
Subject: Coming Out Damage Report  
I'll admit, that's a poor way to phrase what this is supposed to be, but it's honest nonetheless.  It's been almost a month since Cris came out, and I'm happy to report that aside from some unkind and rather disgusting comments on Twitter (PR has reported them), an uptick in the number of threatening letters/emails to the boys, and some hateful call-outs about 'endorsing homoeroticism, homosexuality, sodomy, and sin' by outspoken and radical anti-gay groups, there hasn't been much backlash from the announcement.  Most of the fans seem tolerant if not accepting and supportive.  Sales dipped a little at first but swelled, increasing by 15% after that, which I'm assuming came from the sudden interest in the band as well as the ringing endorsement of the lgbtq community.    I see no reason why we shouldn't proceed as planned.  
Reply if you have any concerns or questions,  
Harry Benton-Sterling  
Dissident Management

* * *

**Sunday, October 28**

**Crisial Updates (@CrisialUpdates)**  
There are rumors @DorianII went to see @breakingfourth at MSG in nyc this week #CrisialComeOut #HeresToHoping #GetTheDickCris  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
Lady Liberty's a lot uglier on the inside than on the out #NowIRememberWhyILikeDick

* * *

**Monday, October 29**

**Tumblr Post: keepcalmandshipcrisial**  
 **This Tattoo Thing**  
So Cris got another tattoo, which he showed off during Good Morning America...and it's without a doubt a couples tattoo.  It's the emoticon for a kiss (:*)<\--if you live under a rock and don't know with the word "hearts" written under it in pretty specific handwriting (I hesitate to say Irial's but I wouldn't be surprised). Iri confirmed he's in NYC did anyone see him at last night's concert?  Does he have any new tattoos?  
  
 **HAVE HOPE NYC (@thisworldiLivein)**  
Met @DorianII in nyc before @breakingfourth final concert and got ice cream with him #OMFG #ISTILLCANTBREATHE #IGOTAPIC  
  
 **Reblogged by keepcalmandshipcrisial**  
 **Tumblr Post: RunAwayWithMe**  
 **Return of the couples tattoos**  
People be like 'Cris got half of a couples tattoo' without having any idea if that was ACTUALLY true of if the boy was just fucking weird.  But...my bestie Jessie and I went to the final concert like not even fifteen minutes and met/talked to Irial Dorian (let me just go in a corner and hyperventilate like oh my fucking God).  Fine, yes, it's def a couples tat.  Dorian has a <3 with the world "kisses" written under it in Cris Emerson's handwriting.  Crisial is totes a thing.  I don't care like do not even fucking touch me.  Stop lying to yourself, seriously, it's not even funny anymore.  He's not dating Rosie Ireland, just no.

* * *

**Tuesday, October 30**

**Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
@breakingfourth I refuse to be designated 'capable of navigating/giving direction/sort of driver' find another patsy #ImGettingHammered #ItsNotEven Funny  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@DorianII have I ever said drunk doesn't look good on you?  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
@Cris_Emerson lol no because it'd be a lie. Everything looks good on me :)  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@DorianII no comment  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
@Cris_Emerson that means yes ^.^  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@DorianII that means if your head gets any bigger it'll explode...but you're not hideous ;)  
  
 **Alexa Umbria (@Umbridge_Alex)**  
@DorianII is an adorable drunk. And @breakingfourth is sooooooo nice #MetMyIdols #HappyHalloween  
  
 **Beatrice Learner (letitbea)**  
Some celebration right...here's a life lesson: don't be a douche, don't string ppl along #WelcomeToTheRealWorld  
  
 **Jekyll And Hyde (@JackalsHill)**  
@CrisialUpdates: CHECK OUT THE KEEK VIDEO @letitbea JUST UPLOADED #OMFG #WHATISMYLIFE #CRISIAL #BOYFRIENDSKISSING  
  
 **Crisial Updates (@CrisialUpdates)**  
Holy fucking crap that is def @Cris_Emerson tonguing a man...but idk if that's @DorianII #TryingToBreathe #BoyfriendsKissing #CrisEmerson #WTAF  
  
 **Dylan Marvel (NotABoyThanks)**  
Omfg you can't see the person's face, a beanie it covering their head, and you can't even tell if it's a guy or girl for real #SitDownCrisialShippers #CrisialShippers  
  
 **Chaz & Lo (@CharlieandLola)**  
@NotABoyThanks I'm not even a Crisial shipper but that's def a boy  
  
 **Text Message from Harry to Cris**  
 **Harry** : You're partying. I get that  
 **Harry** : This is urgent.  
 **Harry** : Call me.  
 **Harry** : We have a bit of a problem.  
 **Harry** : I swear to God, Cris. You'd better call me before shit hits the fan

* * *

**Wednesday, October 31**  
  
 **Cris Emerson and boyfriend?!**  
It's been a little over a month since the idea of Cris Emerson, member of acclaimed British boyband, announced being with a man was even as possibility, and while the idea is hot enough, no one seriously seemed to consider it truly possible until...well last night.  Breaking Fourth celebrated the end of their Have Hope Tour by attending a Halloween party near NYU last night along with the band's opening act and Emerson's ex-girlfriend, Beatrice Learner, as well as his best friend, Irial Dorian.  Crissy's secret long-term girlfriend has been a toss up between Bea and Dorian's former flatmate and band songwriter, Rosie Ireland, since Crissy announced someone even owned the boybander's heart.  Turns out his 'pansexuality' wasn't a cry for attention after all; Beatrice Learner posted a video on Keek late last night of the highly intoxicated boybander (dressed as Wonder Woman) snogging (and groping) someone decidedly male.  We've yet to get confirmation of just _who_ the mystery guy is or even if he's the rumored 'love of Emerson's life' as the band partied early into the morning despite returning to the UK today, but we'd settle for just having a sex tape.  Just that snog got us hot.  
  
To: crossesoflead@gmail.com.uk; wildechild@gmail.com.uk  
From: sterling.harry@dissidentmanagement.org.uk  
Subject: URGENT  
As both of you were too intoxicated to be any help last night, let me recap if you haven't seen yet: last night Beatrice Learner released a Keek video of you two drunken morons snogging at the party.  Irial's REALLY blurry, his beanie completely hid his hair and his costume covered all his tattoos, so he can't be identified, but Cris is crystal clear.  You need to let me know immediately what you want to do about this.  Shoot me an email whenever you read this, and I'll start organizing since I flew back yesterday.  I've included a list of possible solutions, but we need to move on this before it snowballs.  
Best,  
Harry Benton-Sterling  
Dissident Management  
  
 **Phone Call Transcript between Cris and Beatrice**  
 **Beatrice** : "I'm sorry."  
 **Cris** : "You're not sorry.  Don't tell me you're sorry.  Sorry is for when you have _actual_ , _genuine_ remorse for what you did.  You didn't even _tell_ me.  My _publicist_ fucking emailed, called, and texted me to let me know before I opened up the tabloids!  You're not fucking sorry, Bea!"  
 **Beatrice** : "Don't fucking patronize me, Cris, like you're some kind of saint.  You spent _months_ leading me on like we were gonna go somewhere, and instead, I get to find out you're pansexual from the radio and then get to find out you're fucking your best friend when I see you _tonguing_ him in the middle of a party?  Like fuck I wasn't gonna do something!"  
 **Cris** : "I never 'led you on'.  _We_ were _never_ gonna happen, like I'd ever cheat on Irial!  Like I'd ever cheat on Irial with a woman who used me to further her career and then left me like I was trash, especially!  What planet do you actually live on?  And even if I had, you had no right to violate our privacy like that!"  
 **Beatrice** : "Don't be so fucking dramatic.  Obviously, you two are coming out anyway.  So go fuck yourself."  
 **Cris** : "Firstly, I don't need to.  I've got Iri for that because I'm not a lonely, cold, cruel, bitch of a hag like you.  And secondly, 'coming out' and releasing private moments of our lives that have no business being seen by anyone until _we're_ ready for that is _none of your concern_.  How about you take your self-righteous attitude and jealous arse back to Boston and the hell away from me and Irial, mind your own damn business, and get a one way ticket back to obscurity before I fucking bury you.  Thank you very fucking much for making my travel day back home a living hell just because you're a jealous, selfish bitch."  
 **Beatrice** : "Go choke on your boyfriend's dick, asshole."  
 **Cris** : "I'd love to, but I'll be too busy shooting off emails and making phone calls, dealing with your _fucking mess_.  Thanks for that, twat."  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
Who else hates seven hour international flights? #EwAirplaneFood #EwPeopleIDontKnow #IHaveNoPatience  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
Here's a thought: mind your own damn business. Just because you're bitter, alone, and can't take a hint doesn't mean you have to drag everyone else down with you. That's petty, bitch.  
  
To: sterling.harry@dissidentmanage.org.uk  
Bcc: wildechild@gmail.com.uk  
From: crossesoflead@gmail.com.uk  
Subject: This Situation  
Harry,  
I'm literally getting the evil eye from the flight attendant right now, but our flight gets in at 20:15.  Meet us at our house at 20:45/20:55 (you know where the spare key is anyway) and bring Rosie, I guess.  I have an idea of what I want to do, but I'm going to need Rosie's help to like guide me through it.  
Gotta go before the flt attendant slaughters me,  
Cris (and Iri)  
PS Irial says to pick up pizza, ice cream, and root beer on the way over (don't worry about the root beer, he brought like four dozen birch beers.  
  
 **Conversation between Rosie, Harry, Cris, and Irial**  
 **Rosie** : "Is this idea going to give me indigestion?"  
 **Harry** : "Rosie."  
 **Cris** : "It's just...I'm really pissed off that she fucked this up.  I needed slow.  I needed controlled and now the press is _everywhere_ , there are all these rumors and speculations—"  
 **Rosie** : "Like the one about us being in a relationship?  That's fucked up.  I'm dating you.  Iri's dating my brother.  That crosses _way_ too many lines for me."  
 **Harry** : "Really not the time."  
 **Rosie** : "Irial enjoys me."  
 **Irial** : (to Rosie) "All the time."  (to Cris) "What do you want to do, love?  No one's saying you don't have a right to be upset, but Harry gave you options.  And he's right.  You have to get a handle on this before it becomes a scandal, and you suddenly become that 'asshole' who cheating on your beautiful, normal, blue collar, people's champion girlfriend because you're a half-gay horndog who needs to get your dick fix."  
 **Cris** : (to Harry and Rosie) "Seriously?"  
 **Rosie** : "Definitely, I've already got people saying I can do better, and my friends down at the Sun are telling me that that's essentially what's going to be theorized on the cover of every newspaper in the morning."  
 **Harry** : "We can release Irial's name now.  I know it's sooner than expected, but everyone knows that he was at the Halloween, even people who aren't shippers suspect it's Irial.  It may not entirely make the problem go away, obviously we'd have to address Irial's supposed secret boyfriend—"  
 **Rosie** : "People are so fucking stupid sometimes.  I swear, the world just _likes_ living in a perpetual state of denial."  
 **Irial** : (to Rosie) "Don't you?"  
 **Rosie** : "Touche."  
 **Harry** : "Cris."  
 **Cris** : "We're not releasing Irial's name.  We had...not a _plan_ but a way that would smooth all of this out without creating this big fucking deal.  We're sticking with that." (to Irial) "If that's okay with you?"  
 **Irial** : "Whatever you want, love.  It's _your_ media circus, I'm just living in it."  
 **Harry** : "So then how do you want to deal with it?"  
 **Cris** : "Open, honestly, and candidly, in a way that will spread fast and stick it to the media."  
 **Rosie** : (to Harry) "How the fuck do we plan on breaking that story in ten hours?"  
 **Harry** : "Easily."  
 **Irial** : (whispers to Cris) "My best mate's a genius, methinks, love."  
 **Cris** : "Evil mastermind?"  
 **Irial** : "Along with his hit man.  We'll be fine."  
  
 **Transcript of Cris Emerson's YouTube video**  
"Um...hello, I've never actually done a YouTube video before unless you count Iri's blogs, which I don't because it's just...they're not _this_ , which you probably don't know what this is either but...ok.  Let me just....I think almost everyone has seen the Keek video that Beatrice uploaded of me during that Halloween party in New York.  I know most people are expecting me to come out and say 'I was drunk, it was a mistake' or some long-winded roundabout apology for cheating on my girlfriend because I'm a pansexual, which naturally means I can't keep it in my pants when it comes to guys, especially considering my long and colorful dating history.  It's all a bit of rubbish, though, and I'm not going to do that because I wasn't kidding or being facetious when I said I didn't want to lie to anyone on Dorian Speaks, not about who I am, not about my sexuality, not about who I'm dating.  I've done a lot of hiding, a lot of lying, a lot of implying and manipulating, and I'll take responsibility for all that but I'm quite done with it.

"The man I was kissing wasn't just some quick drunken snog because I was in New York on my last day of tour at a party drunk off my arse.  He wasn't just some guy that I happened to meet at a party.  I don't have a girlfriend, haven't had one for a long time, which I think most people suspect, and I'm certainly not dating Rosie Ireland, partly because she scares the shit out of me and partly because her sort-of-not-a-boyfriend wouldn't take it very well.  I don't cheat.  I've never cheated on anyone I've dated, and I can't say they've all returned the favor but it doesn't change the facts that loving someone means you have to have enough respect for them to do right by them, to cherish the piece of you that they give them and not break them or their trust because it'll never be put back together the same way again.  And I think he's quite been broken enough.

"I don't actually snog random strangers or casual acquaintances or close friends.  I quite love him, and I was lucky enough to have him be able to come see me and my friends on our last day in New York, which he reminds me of all the time because he clearly has a life that doesn't revolve around me and my tour schedule.  And it sucks that our privacy was invaded the way that it was after seeing each other in person for the first time in months.  And don't think...it's not like I'm trying to hide him, which I think is becoming pretty obvious, but I just don't think either or us are prepared for some big, dramatic display of 'coming out' we're not _those_ _people_ , not anymore and not when we both have other people in our lives who need to be looked out for.  It's not _fair_ that all this nonsense and slander is going to be all over the rags tomorrow because of selfishness and jealousy and callous actions that deserve even less attention and acknowledgement I'm giving them.

"It wasn't true what the papers said...or are going to say I suppose.  In fact, they usually aren't.  That man I kissed is everything to me.  He's the love of my life and like the Spock to my Kirk and my whole world in the most cliched way humanly possibly, and I don't even care how sappy and pathetic that makes me sound.  I have no idea what I would do without him, and I'm damned lucky that he stuck around through all the media and press bullshit, but I'm not about to let him drowned in it anymore because I may not be ready to introduce him to my world, but I'm done lying about his existence.  That's my boyfriend.  He was... _is_...my boyfriend.  I have a boyfriend, and I would have come out anyway eventually because my sexuality _is_ so important to me and a lot of other people, but I think most people realize that it was mostly him.  I was terrified of it until he came into my life and gave me a reason to overcome that fear, to fight and to deal with the hate and the ignorance, and to give me something to fight _for_ and hold on to at the end of the day.  I just thought you ought to know."

* * *

The world exploded.   

Not like _literally_ but Cris figured it might as well have considering all the sudden news media/paparazzi (yes, there was a difference) apocalypse that descended upon his life, not the least of which being the leaked story of Cris's verbal assault on Beatrice Learner in the middle of the airport—one that Rosie had deemed "a true stroke of madness and genius on the part of the Learner PR team".  It wasn't end of the world, especially not when Cheryl and Irial had publicly thrashed Beatrice for "yet another pretty—but cutthroat and animalistic—attempt to garner much needed attention, deflecting from her own petty, bitchy, and downright disgustingly egregious bullshit to slam one of the most famous people in the world who had every right to scream at her—a woman who capitalizes of screaming _violation of privacy_ at the press—like the fame whore she is."   

He appreciated the attempt, but the fallout had mostly been overshadowed by his whole second-coming-of-Tom Daley bullshit, which had really been a last minute resort.  The video went viral in an hour, trended worldwide for twelve, and made almost every news network in the country.  Not the greatest welcome home present, but Irial had taken advantage of Cris's day off even if he himself had to work; he'd spent the morning taking care of Cris, sucking lovebites into every inch of skin his mouth and tongue touched, rimming Cris until he was begging and crying, and only fucking when Cris was practically gagging for it.  Then, Irial had stolen all of Cris's electronics, managed to make his juevos rancheros without burning down the entire kitchen (though his first attempt was a charred pile of ew even the dogs wouldn't touch), and forced all the boys over to keep him entertained with greasy Chinese food and Polish vodka while marathoning Teen Wolf.   

Cris went with it, half because he didn't want to deal with the media circus outside his door and half because he trusted Irial, Rosie, and Harry to figure this shit out.   

Naturally, it meant that he'd grown restless in the week they'd been home, confined to virtual house arrest until they'd taken off for LA to perform at the AMAs.  As much as he _wanted_ to be at home with Irial and his family, he couldn't help but be grateful for the temporary reprieve  from dividing his time between (badly) playing footie in the backyard with Irial and the dogs and whoever else stopped by to entertain him and working grueling hours in the studio.  With all his time at home, he'd gotten three things: a sore body, a collection of dark lovebites, and enough songs for three albums let alone one he was co-writing.   

By the time he'd returned home, though, the press around him had begun to wane just enough so that he and Irial could walk their dogs in the morning without having to worry about being papped every five meters.  And Harry gave the go ahead.   

The thing about his 'coming out' was that he'd all but outright _said_ he was with Irial; Cris found it a bit ridiculous that every newspaper in the country reported he had torrid affairs with women whose interactions could be summed up to 'hey, I'm Cris, you look beat, want a drink?' but everyone needed actual _confirmation_ that he was shagging Irial despite how attached they were.   

Before this whole process had begun, Cris and Irial hadn't exactly been _subtle_ about their interactions—they were _best friends_ it hadn't been an ordeal until it _was_ and even then Dissident had preferred to just keep Cris busy playing celeb playboy for the American fan base—but discretion had definitely been advised, recommended, and sort of _ordered_.  As soon as Breaking Fourth got back from schmoozing America, Cris and Irial just didn't bother, a weight he hadn't even realized he'd been holding disappearing in an instant.  They were _everywhere_ together: walking around their neighborhood with the dogs, at bars, at clubs, at movies and performances and restaurants, shopping and partying.  The sheer number of times Irial had been papped entering and leaving their home in a mixture of Cris's "vintage Hipster crap" and Iral's too-tight girl's jeans and terrible-for-his-falling arches Converse made it beyond obvious they still lived together; if people were honestly _still_ in denial after a month and a half of the pair of them blatantly living in each other's pockets, then _nothing_ could help them; they were honest-to-God _trying_ to be oblivious.   

_That_ had, of course, been the point.  Everyone with a brain, common sense, and the ability to _not_ exist in a perpetual state of denial knew that Cris and Irial were together, if not for the last almost _four years_ then at least _now_.  And for those living in a permanent state of psychosis (like a good quarter of Breaking Fourth's fan base and most of the press), it had at least given everyone time to...well...get used to them being as ridiculously co-dependent as they actually _were_ ; after all, Cris and Irial tended to be the type to grocery shop together in pajamas and kiss in front of the frozen chicken cutlets _and_ the deli and the chips because Cris smiled boyishly at Irial as he asked to buy things they _really_ really didn't need.   

Some of the press hadn't _quite_ given up on speculating about Cris and Rosie, especially not when Dominic had flooded Instagram with a shit ton of pictures of them chatting each other up and smirking in the kitchen during American Thanksgiving, which she'd bullied everyone into yet again.  Irial and Brandon—much to Cris's chagrin since Irial had "let it go and moved the fuck on", allowing 'he was an ass, but I always liked him' Rosie to welcome him into their group with open arms, everyone still hush hush about what he'd done for work that had traumatized him—argued about the rules of American football with Cheryl and Penney in Cheryl and Micah's living room—their house had been volunteered for the venue this year.  Cris let it go when Rosie rolled her eyes, Harry shrugged, and Irial laughed it off, declaring, "Some people just try to be _thick_."    

Their lives fell into an in-between states, frozen in time and standing still, but Cris couldn't help but revel in it, the eye of the storm, if he was being honest.  His management had retreated to lick their wounds, and Breaking Fourth found themselves half in love with Harry who knew what the fuck he was doing when no one was around to sabotage all his plans, interviews seeming more like the friendly Q and As that they did with Cheryl and Irial than battlegrounds and landmines.  Instead, Cris spent most of his time recording, fielding calls from Molly and his mother about wedding bullshit, and embracing his newfound ability to publicly be glued to his fiancé, which they both took advantage of.   

Together, they argued over Christmas trees while Stassi (menace, she was, absolute menace) and Marius yipped at each other and tugged them away from their sarcastic quarrel to lick small children.  Cris let himself be dragged to the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show by Bailey who'd only bothered going to support Kanani and spent the whole week trading Snapchats, Tweets, and sexts with Irial while getting publicly mocked for going back to his 'womanizing past'—Irial had _died_ laughing—because he'd been photographed backstage with Willamina...whatever; Harry had just shaken his head and said "Well, _that's_ probably never gonna go away.  Get used to it popstar."   

Either way, despite the giant white elephant in the room, Cris's newfound contentedness with life translated into interviews, at least, that's what Derek Havershim, talk show host, celebrity interviewer, and genuine badass commented, anyway, when Breaking Fourth sat down for their first interview of the new year.   

"Um...thanks?"  Cris blinked at him, glancing off to where Harry only shrugged, Rosie frowning as she jotted something down in her phone; Irial read over her shoulder before glancing up to meet Cris's eyes, making a face at him; Cris laughed, and Harry swatted Irial without even looking at him.   

"I mean, you've had a big year that I'm sure hasn't been _all_ good..."   

Harry had prepared him for this, and Rosie had gone over what sounded best; Cris nodded, "It's definitely been better received that I had been led to believe.  People were _really_ supportive; of course there'd been some negative stuff, but I never really _saw_ most of the _really awful_ things.  Iri confiscated all of my electronics the first seventy-two hours after I was photographed with my boyfriend and had the boys babysit me.  All I've really seen is the more recent comments on twitter and the updates we get from our publicist."   

"Most of it hasn't been _mean_ ," Micah pointed out.   

Dominic smiled wolfishly, " _Perverted_ , definitely, but not cruel or homophobic.  Iri thought it was hysterical.  Between the two of us, I think Cris has gotten the worst of it from reading his own fanfiction."   

Benji snickered, "Odd.  I'd have thought Irial had broken him of embarrassment about _that_."   

Cris felt himself go red, "You boys are _awful_.  Why do I talk to you?"   

"Ah, yes, _Irial_ ," Derek said, looking over to wink at the man in question.  Irial froze, quirking an eyebrow at Derek before rolling his eyes and flipping him off, popping a Starburst in his mouth.  "He was the more vocal of the two of you in regards to this whole 'Crisial' portion of the fandom saying the people needed to be more respectful and not jump to conclusions.  How have you been, now that the number of Crisial shippers has swelled in response to you admitting your pansexuality and that, on top of it, you _have_ a boyfriend?"   

Dominic beamed, and Cris glanced at him, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.  Micah threw an arm over Dominic's shoulder, allowing him to snicker into his neck, "You'll have to excuse him.  He's joined the pack."   

"Oh really?"  Derek laughed, delightedly, "Nic's a Crisial shipper?"   

"Yes!"  He squeaked.   

"I'm thinking _this_ is _why_ Irial had been very adamant about downplaying the ship."   

"More like to protect Cris," Micah mumbled.   

"That true?"  Derek asked Cris,   

Cris met Irial's eyes, smiling softly and thankfully at Irial as he answered, "Irial's amazing, really.  He protects people he loves in whatever way he can."   

"I mean, it had to be hard on his boyfriend though, too, and yours I'm assuming, to have people talking about and writing about how in love you two were all the time, just because you were seen together.  I can imagine that it would be hard not to get jealous, especially given how close you two are.  Didn't you two just spend a week in December in Greece?"   

Cris smiled slightly, blushing and ducking his head as Irial leered at him from the wings.  Greece had been their joint anniversary present to themselves, their _last_ anniversary before they got married in March.  He ran his fingers through his hair and peeked first at a stony faced Ashton and Daniel and then Harry who raised his eyebrows at the unspoken question and mouthed, "You ready?"  Cris's eyes drifted to Irial who'd drifted over to sit in the studio audience, plopping down on the aisle stairs and chatting with a couple of teenaged girls sitting there, a wide smile on his face, wisps of his honey-blond hair falling into his sparkling silvery gray eyes, clean-shaven and dark lovebites dotting his neck and exposed collarbone.  He was wearing his too-tight (and definitely women's) Union Jack jeans, a Sleeping With Sirens tank top they'd bought at Warped, and their shared Crocodile Cafe hoodie, the Rainbow Dash toque he'd Irial as a joke anniversary gift perched on his head and his stupid Green Lantern (even Irial fucking _hated_ that movie so where had that _even_ come from) tongue stud flashing with every word he spoke.  Cris kind of just wanted to kiss him anyway, right here in front of everyone because he was _Irial_ , he was _his_ ; he twisted his engagement ring on his middle finger and nodded at Harry.   

He'd _always_ be ready for Irial.   

"Not really, I think that would be a whole new level of self-deprecating."   

A beat of silence came from _everyone_ except the boys who let out barks of laughter, falling over each other; Irial looked up and raised his eyebrows at Cris, silently asking him if he was ready.  Cris smiled back at him reassuringly, pointedly taking off his ring and tossing it in his hand as he turned and raised his eyebrows at Derek, " _Really_?  And why would that be?  I've heard that you're not a fan of Irial's boyfriend."   

Cris wrinkled his nose, "I _never_ said that.  Really, people take that out of context.  He's a bit mental, can't sing a note, and has the _oddest_ obsession with baked goods and Sci-fi, but I rather like to think it's all apart of his charm.  Irial likes it, I know, and what's not to like?  He's brilliant."   

Irial barked out a laugh, "And so _humble_ too."   

"Daft," Micah tsked, shaking his head, "might be a better word."   

"And _your_ boyfriend, he likes Irial as well?"   

Cris grinned, looking over at Irial who feigned a thoughtful expression, making Cris laugh.  Benji rolled his eyes, "Absolutely _loves_ him.  Bit of plonker, that one."   

Irial narrowed his eyes on Benji and mimed slitting his throat; Benji bit back a smile, ducking his head to hide his expression.  Micah, though, commented, "Derek, you _cannot_ _possibly_ be _this_ daft."   

Derek's expression shifted to incredulity, excitement, surprise, and something that looked _a lot_ like pride.  Cris swallowed, smiling easier at that; clearly, Derek had thought that Cris was being rebellious that same he had been when he'd first gotten a tattoo of a mental, murderous killer whale tattooed on him because management had specifically told him _not_ to...he won't completely take the blame for that because all the boys had found out and within hours had had their own skin inked up as well.  It hardly mattered now.  Derek _knew_ that Irial and Cris were together, _had known_ since Cris had made out with him under the influence of tequila during an impromptu party Derek had thrown eighteen months ago.  It was admirable that he was trying to protect Cris from himself but, really, he was making this so damn difficult that even Harry had resorted to gaping at Derek like he was the dumbest person he'd ever seen while Rosie shot arrows, threw knives, and set hungry, murderous fucking _werewolves_ on him with the intensity of her glare.   

Quickly, Derek snatched Cris's ring out of midair, "And what's this you're playing with, then, dear Crispin?"   

Cris grimaced while Irial stuck his tongue out at Derek, obviously not amused, "Don't call me that."   

"You're distracting the man by flipping you like £600 Tiffany's ring, tosser," Dominic exclaimed dramatically, cuffing him on the back of the head.   

Derek squealed, holding it out for Crispin to take, "I'm holding my rent.  _You're_ playing with my rent like it's a toy."   

The boys gave him a droll look as accepted his ring back, Cris saying, "I've been to your flat, Derek, don't lie."  Cris's eyes darted to Irial who swallowed, looking nervous but _happy_ ; a smile curved Cris's lips, slipping the ring on his proper finger evidently as he said, "Fine, mate, I'll play nice.  Now, don't you have an interview to be conducting?"   

Making a choked noise, Derek looked between a smug Irial and a genial, smirking Cris, "Do you know that's—"   

"Oh, he knows," Dominic, Benji, and Micah promised together.   

"What?!  Okay, screw professionalism.  I _knew_ you lovesick boys were _dating_ , but you're...I...he... _engaged_?"   

The crowd absolutely lost it, and the security and producers tried to settle them while Irial slipped over to Harry and Rosie, standing between them and smiling reassuringly at Cris who focused on explaining to _Derek_ like this wasn't a live interview being broadcasted around the UK, like this wasn't being illegally streamed as he spoke.   

"We've been together over four years, Derek.  Last year, when we went to Greece, that was our fourth anniversary...oh my God I feel so old," Cris frowned.  Irial rolled his eyes and waved him off while the boys sniggered, though they couldn't talk, _all of them_ were older than him.   

"So this is recent?"  Derek demanded.   

"No?  I mean, he proposed the day after my birthday last year, when 'Agree to Disagree' came out."   

"And we just thought he _really_ loved and wanted to commemorate that album," Dominic lamented.   

"Ridiculous," Cris rolled his eyes and shook his head, "how does that _even_ make sense.  But, I mean, the arse bought the ring in _Australia_ and waited _seven months_ before proposing to me!"   

The boys, Harry and Rosie, and Irial laughed at Cris while Benji nodded, "Cris looked looked like a proper tosser, always talking about marriage and then apologizing because Iri doesn't believe in it.  All this time, Irial had a ring."   

"That's not funny," Cris elbowed him in the side, pouting.   

" _Four years_?  _Engaged_?  When in the _hell_ are you getting married Cris?"   

Cris smiled sheepish, "March...you want to come?  I mean, you're on the list, but we only just mailed out the invitations...mostly because we had to fight our mothers to get married in the United Kingdom and not some exotic locale so that they could vacation."   

"Did the same thing to us," Micah glared at Cris who flushed.  "Terrible friend, but I definitely think his coming out was worse.  _Right_ before your show nearly...what?  Three years ago now?"   

Benji and Dominic nodded while Cris sighed, "Micah, you need to let that go.  It was _ages_ ago."   

"Never gonna be over that, Cris, never."   

"Okay, so, you've not only officially come out as pansexual, but now you're confirming you've been dating Irial Dorian for the past _four years_ —so all that embarrassing stuff he put up about his boyfriend is actually about _you_ —" Cris's eyes went wide, and Irial laughed at him, Harry shaking his head while the boys just sniggered.  "You two are getting married in March, which congratulations for getting the biggest commitment-phobe on the planet to put a ring on it..."   

"He liked it!" Dominic exclaimed.   

Rosie dropped her head in her hands; Cris looked between them, "How long have you been waiting to use that one?"   

"A while," Derek beamed.  Cris let him have it; he _had_ neglected to tell the man about his engagement.  "Any more bombs you want to drop on us tonight while you _fiancé_ over there is no doubt trending 'Crisial Shippers Were Right, Bow Down' or something equally as tedious," Irial looked up from his mobile guiltily before shrugging and sticking his tongue out at Derek, "Going solo?"   

"Will that rumor _always_ exist?"  Cris huffed.   

"Don't leave me!"  Dominic hugged him.   

Micah rolled his eyes, "It's called 'character building'."   

"It's called abandonment," Benji retorted.   

"It's called oh my God shut up, it's not even _true_ ," Cris rolled his eyes.   

"Those pictures your boy puts up on his Tumblr secretly the two of you?"  Derek joked.   

Dominic choked; Benji and Micah laughed.  Cris turned beet red, embarrassed on being called out but not exactly _regretful_.  Harry glowered at him while Rosie shook her head; Irial smirked at Cris and shook his head, calling out, " _I_ don't post those!"   

A moment of silence in which the audience broke out in whispers and whistles; Cris bit back a smile, " _Seriously_?"   

"I believe in giving the people what they want," Cris shrugged, blushing but smiling smugly.   

Derek raised his eyebrows, "So I should keep waiting for that sex tape, then?"   

Micah _lost it_.  Dominic doubled over, falling into Cris's lap as he laughed while Benji struggled for breath laughing so hard.  Cris bit his lip and played with the pendant of his necklace, a sheepish smile on his face; Harry dropped his head in his hands while Rosie copied the crowd, clapping and cheering.  Irial laughed, and Derek nodded, "That'd be _hot_."   

Cris laughed, shook his head, and met Irial's eyes.  This was good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So some of the comments about Irial's coming out are mean because that's the way the real world works. Not everyone's supportive and happy, I didn't want to lie. And holy fuck this was a long chapter. Whoa. This is like one of the longest chapters in the story. Whew.


	58. "Back Where We Belong" The Last Goodnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irial reads his own press (and kind of freaks out about it). Beverly, Irial, and Cris's club opens. Rosie gets a sort of steady job.

**Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
So much for not coming out dramatically @Cris_Emerson #LoveYouAnyway #CrisialIsReal #TheyToldYouSo  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
In honor of @Derek_Haves #CrisialShippersWereRightBowDown  
  
 **Crisial Updates (@CrisialUpdates)**  
@Cris_Emerson announced he's MARRYING @DorianII #ComeAtMe #CrisialIsReal #DontSayItsWeirdPlatonic #CrisEmerson #IrialDorian  
  
 **Not a drill (@darlingdori)**  
"@Cris_Emerson: we've been dating 4 yrs!" #AnyOtherQuestions #HowsThatForDeluded #CrisialShippersWereRightBowDown #CrisialIsReal  
  
 **Tumblr Post: TheCrisialCounter**  
Approximately 1467 days and Crisial has finally come out #ICanRest #ICanDieHappy  
  
 **Tumblr Post: CrisialIsStillReal**  
 **OMG THEY'RE OUT**  
Fucking validation! Fucking finally I can't even believe it.  I'm still in shock! After 4yrs my babies are out and ENGAGED!!!!!!!! What is this life?!!!!!!!!!!  
 **ForeverIsInYourArms**  
I'm over here like all the looks, all the simultaneous disappearances, all the couples tattoos, and all the bullshit PR dates: ARE WE STILL DELUDED FUCKERS? Muahahahahahahahaha. Excuse me while I rub this in your face after FOUR YEARS of bullying and (oh look) they've ACTUALLY BEEN TOGETHER THE WHOLE TIME. Fuck outta here :P  
 **crisialsmut**  
I'm over here like some of those pics on Dorian's smut blog are him and Cris. *Obsessively stalks until I find out which ones and shamelessly reblogs them*  
 **princess_sElf**  
I'm over here looking at all the pics Cris, Nic, Benji, Micah, Irial, Rosie, Ariella, Holden, Soren, and EVEN FUCKING ALINA ROSEN just posted on Instagram and Twitter of Crisial being cute together and tagged 'boyfriends' and 'fiances'.  Let me just fangirl over here for a minute because I can't even breathe, seriously.  
 **doesdorianhaveagagreflex**  
I'm over here like all you bitches who doubted and called us crazy can choke on Irial's dick.  
 **crisialhavehope**  
...but that's Cris's job...  
 **catchingdreams092814**  
I lol'ed so hard (my bf choked on his chicken catchatoori)  
 **dorian_wildechild**  
Why don't you stfu before you and your demon dog end up on the couch 2nite, princess?  
 **catchingdreams092814**  
1) I dare you. 2) I still have that lively picture of you sucking a choice part of my anatomy....play with me :P  
 **crisialsmut**  
OMG POST IT WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!!!!!!!!  
 **dorian_wildechild**  
He would -.-  
  
 **Trending Worldwide**  
#CrisialShippersWereRightBowDown  
Gay Marriage  
Coming Out  
Valentine's Day  
Crisial  
#FreeJustinBieber  
#CrisialIsReal  
Brit Awards  
Cris Emerson  
Irial Dorian  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
Radio silence: my gift to @Cris_Emerson for Valentine's Day <3 #ily #HappyValentinesDay  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
My fiance has to work on Valentine's Day :( It's ok though he promised me Paris this weekend #Paris #HappyValetinesDay #IllBotherHimInStudio #DorianSpeaks  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
@Cris_Emerson why do I love you?  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@DorianII :*  
  
 **Breaking Fourth's Valentine's Day**  
The members of boyband Breaking Fourth are growing up...and so are their holiday Valentine's Day plans.  Benji Irving (24) spent his Valentine's Day on a yacht in Spain with on-again, off-again girlfriend and singer, Ani Tiernan.  Dominic Kinsey (23) whose been quiet since Breaking up with his girlfriend, restauranteur and renowned mixologist, Beverly Dixon (who's opening a bar with Kinsey's bandmate Cris Emerson and his fiancé later in the month) was spotted in Miami with Victoria's Secret model, Julia Hanson, before heading to Orlando to spent the rest of the weekend with his parents, siblings, and his nieces and nephews at Disney World.  Meanwhile Micah Cross (25) as well as bandmate Cris Emerson (22) postponed their plans as both Cheryl Atterberry and Irial Dorian were working on their radio show, Dorian Speaks, during the holiday.  The two couples spent the evening sharing at meal at Gordon Ramsay's York & Albany along with friends, Harry Benton-Sterling and Rosie Ireland, and siblings, Holden Ireland and Ariella Emerson, before Micah and Cheryl returned to Bristol for the weekend while Cris and Dorian sojourned in France.  We've got to admit, while not many people expected the rumors to be _true_ , Crisial does make one cute couple...just one question: where's the sex tape?  
  
 **Breaking Fourth (@breakingfourth)**  
Wish us luck at the Brit Awards tonight! #ItsGonnaBeAGoodNight #BigAnnouncements  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
So I'm in Armani and @DorianII is in my blazer, a t-shirt, and skinny jeans #smh #WhatAmIMarrying  
  
 **Dominic Kinsey (@Nic_Kinsey)**  
@Cris_Emerson: lmfao #boyfriendproblems  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
@Cris_Emerson: you're lucky that :P  @Nic_Kinsey: I met your new gf #DontTalk  
  
 **Crisial Updates (@CrisialUpdates)**  
@DorianII is going to the Brits with @Cris_Emerson #StillFeelsSurreal #CantGetEnough #CanonOTP #Crisial

* * *

Irial sprawled across the bed, legs crossed in the air while he glared at the screen of his laptop, well aware that this wasn't what he was _supposed_ to be looking up...it just happened.  He flicked a strand of his damp hair from his eyes, not even glancing at Stassi as she snuggled into his side.  Cris's asshole off a dog had forgone any and all boundaries (just like his Daddy, quite frankly) and draped himself over the entirety of Irial's lower back and part of Stassi's.  Marius was quite lucky neither he nor his short tempered canine had snapped at the mutt.

> **Cris Emerson keeps surprising!**  
>  It's been almost more than a month since Breaking Fourth's Cris Emerson (22) shocked fans and press alike by admitting on Derek Havershim's talk show that he was not only engaged to best friend and radio DJ, Irial Dorian (24), but had also been dating him for over four years, which encompasses almost the entirety of their knowing each other as the couple met at Club Deccord when Breaking Fourth returned from their North American tour late September 2014.  Despite rumors that had been denied and dispelled for years by friends and family of the boys' as well as a string of infamous dates with women like Alina Rosen, Davina Allard, and Willamina Leddy and Dorian's notorious hook-up with an unknown former flame and a kiss with actor, Charles Beck, the couple both confirmed they'd been together—seemingly monogamously—the whole time.  
>   
> Since then, the couple has been spotted holding hands, kissing, and just generally being the same cute (if a tad more physically intimate) pair we know and love all around London.  It was almost five days ago at the Brit Awards where we got our first taste of the couple in the eyes of the press.  Cris Emerson walked with band members, Nic Kinsey, Benji Irving, and Micah Cross, while Dorian walked with radio co-host and Cross's fiancee, Cheryl Atterberry, though Dorian and Emerson both stopped to chat with an interviewer about their relationship, upcoming nuptials, and future plans.  
>   
> "It's not easy," Emerson said, "lying to that many people, that often.  It's not something you can just put on and take off.  You have to keep lying, even when you're on your own time, have to remember 'I can't say that' or ' _that_ picture can never see the light of day'."  Dorian added, "Plus it's not just us.  Our friends, our families, even my company had to lie.  Everyone's lives are affected, Alina, Willamina, Davina—Christ you dated a lot of girls whose names ended in 'ina'—not only had to lie, they had to sacrifice their own time, risk their own relationships to become a part of this huge facade.  It's mental."  
>   
>  When asked about their upcoming wedding nuptials, the couple both laughed and shook their heads, Dorian answering, "We really don't know much about it.  Our mothers just sort of took over.  My best sort of man, Rosie, and Ari [Crispin's sister] have been making sure they don't go overboard, but I'm not too confident they succeeded.  Really, I just consider it lucky that our guest list is under 250, and we're getting married in London and not like Jamaica or somewhere our mother's could tan."  Emerson laughed and replied, "It was a close call really."  Their wedding reception is, reportedly, being held at Club Deccord where they met four years ago with a star-studded guest list that includes the entirety of Persian-American band Azadi, Arsenal footballer Arthur Bailey and model girlfriend Kanani Kapuana, Charles Beck, Patrick Gallagher, Soren Reid, Ani Tiernan, Penney Dear, and Davina Allard.  
>   
> And on the continued rumor of Emerson going solo, which had become more alarming since the rumors about him and his best friend have proven to be true, Emerson replied, "It's seriously not something I've ever considered.  I love touring with the Benji, Micah, and Dominic.  They're my best friends, and I wouldn't want to perform with anyone else.  That being said, I have been working on a solo project."  Naturally, Irial Dorian smacked him at that point because we could just hear the Breakers freaking out, and tweaked, "He's becoming the Fergie to Breaking Fourth's Black Eyed Peas...sort of?  I mean, he's recording a solo album without the intention of going solo."  Emerson nodded and continued, "Right.  I'm not planning on going on tour or even writing another solo album, this one just kind of happened because of everything that's been going on.  My album, Uphill Battle, is coming out in April about a month after 'Some Kind of Serendipity', the band's next album.  We've been talking about me maybe performing one or two songs from off the album on tour, but otherwise, I just wanted to release the album."  
>   
> As for the future of the couple, both Emerson and Dorian admit that kids are off the table for at least the next five years as they're both so driven by their careers and don't want to 'do the touring thing' with kids, but figure they'll probably end up with one or two more pets in that time frame as "Crispin has this hero complex when it comes to strays, it's a bit ridiculous."  Their honeymoon will only be a week as Breaking Fourth has tour preparations and promotions for their album, but will mostly be "Iri and I bumming around Europe, it's something we've always wanted to do together. We both just love traveling."  As for whether or not we'll see Irial on Breaking's Fourth upcoming ten month world tour, Dorian says he has "no actually plans to play popstar again, but you just never know where you end up."  
>   
> It might have been a bit of a shock to find out that the world's supposedly most eligible bachelor and playboy was, in fact, in a committed, long-term relationship with his best friend, but they've proven a complement to each other in every way, a team, and a cute one that we can ship with the rest of the Crisial fandom.

"What the hell are you reading?"  Crispin asked as he stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist and shoulder length hair dripping.   

"Us."   

"That's never good," Crispin rolled his eyes, grabbing his blow dryer and pointing it at Irial, "You should stop before you stress yourself out."   

"It's not _bad_ ," Irial retorted, glaring when his cat hopped onto the bed, walking over his keyboard to nuzzle her head against him.  Stassi eyed the feline distrustfully while Crispin shook his head, not entirely believing Irial, and began drying his hair.   

It _wasn't_ ; Irial just wasn't used to reading his own press, especially not press about his and Crispin's relationship.  It made him uncomfortable and defensive, even if what they'd written was complimentary, which might be why Harry had given him a look after he'd chewed out at journalist over Twitter and ordered him to stop reading all the crap people were writing about his and Crispin's relationship.  Like, yes, okay, he agreed that if Crispin and he had made the decision to put themselves in a place willingly where they knew they'd garner press attention, they had no right to bitch about the fact that they had it.  But people didn't know, didn't ask, didn't fact check half the time; it was all opinions without any sort of facts in regards to their relationship.   

Who the fuck are they anyway?   

"Iri," Crispin's voice interrupted his musings, and he padded barefoot across the room and swatted all the animals away, closed Irial's laptop and put it aside, and ran his hand down Irial's bare back.  Sighing, Irial rested his head on Crispin's towel-clad thigh, looking up at him through his lashes, "I think this is why Harry told you to stop reading shit about us."   

"I think this is why I hate you."   

"That doesn't make any sort of sense, elf."   

"Whatever, is it bad that I'm tired of being out already?"   

"As long as you'd rather not go back in."   

"Look, I know the Pevency children quite enjoy Narnia, but I don't," Irial huffed.  Crispin laughed and carded his fingers through Irial's hair.  He hummed happily, closing his eyes and pressing his head back into the touch, "I don't want to go _back_.  I just want to sink into obscurity.  Everybody's looking at us, and I don't for the life of me understand why.  Like, why does the world want to know about _our_ relationship when Micah and Cheryl had been together for a decade and are only just now dragging their heels when it comes to walking down the aisle?  Or when Benji and Ani are on-again, off-again, cheat-again, date-again, whatever the hell else again: what the actual fuck is that bullshit?  Or when Dominic's girlfriend is blatantly screwing some American football star while flaunting her fling with Dom.  And yet _we're_ the ones everyone's speculating on whether our whole relationship is just a fluke, whether we're going to last long enough to make it down the aisle, whether we're actually good for each other, whether our relationship is functional, whether we can make it long distance, whether I turned you gay like...ugh...."   

Crispin nodded, "Well, you didn't 'turn me gay'."   

Irial snorted, "That's good to know."   

"I thought so," Crispin smiled down at him, "you know we can make it long distance, if we could handle three years being closeted, an almost-break up, several fake girlfriends and boyfriends, the PR mess that coming out was, and my management we can make forever.  And who fucking cares if we _can't_?"  Irial quirked an eyebrow at Crispin who looked down at him, expression serious and genuine, "Iri, it doesn't matter if we make it forever.  That's _our_ business.  It's not the media's place to decide whether we're good together, whether we'll work, whether we should be together, if we ever should have gotten together.  Who cares it doesn't matter.  They praise Elounor, and every time they're together Louis Tomlinson turns into a douche bag the size of Texas.  They lauded Katy Perry and Russell Brand, and _that_ relationship went down in flames after barely a year.  There was condemnation about Brangelina—"   

"I hate those cheating scums," Irial pouted.   

"Yes, _but_ they're still together despite all of it," Crispin pointed out.  Irial pursed his lips and met Crispin's eyes, waiting for him to make his point, "Just because the media has an opinion, doesn't mean it's always _right_.  I get that you work in that industry, but you and I are _us_.  Who gives a fuck what the media thinks about our relationship; an industry that praised Justin Bieber and Selena Gomez—"   

"Kendall Jenner and Harry Styles..."   

"Taylor Swift and John Mayer..."   

"Miley Cyrus and that underwear model..."   

"Evgeni Malkin and Oksana..."   

"Louis Tomlinson and Eleanor Calder...."   

Crispin started laughing and shaking his head, "They don't know what the hell they're talking about."   

Irial conceded, "You might have a point."   

"Naturally," Crispin said, pressing a kiss to Irial's forehead before smacking his ass, "therapy over, get dressed."   

Groaning, Irial rolled off the bed and onto his feet, throwing a dark look at Crispin over his shoulder, "Ugh, I hate you."  Crispin stood up and walked over to Irial, pressing his back against the wall, one hand holding both Irial's wrists behind him while the other gripped his waist tightly; he kissed him deeply but slowly, controlling the pace as their tongues tangled together, hearts pounding furiously against their ribcages, the only thing separating this half-hard cocks being two thin strips of cotton.  When Irial rolled his hips against Crispin, he pulled back, smirking at Irial, pressing one last kiss to his lips before walking into their closet, smug.  Irial dropped his head back against the wall and moaned, "You're such an arse!"   

Crispin laughed.

* * *

Irial considered it a sad day in his life when the same day his has his first break down about the press and media being all up and in his life, he's forced to stand and pose for pictures for them outside of new nightclub and bar, Yin and Yang, only steps away from his home in Primrose Hill (or what he considered steps now that he lived in the glorified suburbs).  He and Crispin held hands behind Beverly Dixon's back as the three of them posed for pictures outside their club; he suddenly wished he hadn't invested any money into it...then he wouldn't have to stand here and pose for the cameras.  Dammit, he preferred being on the other side of things.   

"Ready to go in, boys?"  Beverly asked, practically vibrating with excitement as the three of them walked to the entrance.   

Crispin wrapped his arm around Irial's shoulders, immediately fitting them together while he smiled at Beverly's enthusiasm, "Anytime you're ready, Bev."   

"Oh my God, no!  What if it's awful, Crispin?  I can't look," Irial cried dramatically, curling into Crispin's side and burying his face into the fabric of his way-too-expensive blazer.   

Beverly smacked him while Crispin laughed, "Oh shut up, you, it'll be amazing."   

"I'm not convinced," Irial frowned.   

It _was_ amazing.   

They'd conceptualized everything down to the last detail; it was four floors of absolute awesome.  The lower level had been turned into a heaven/hell theme and was heavily, completely a club with one side (heaven) being white, pristine and luxury seating, the other being a full bar ( _that_ had been a statement), and the dance floor being a clash between the two, artfully done, and mostly playing alternative music.  The ground floor was also a club but much more typical than the one downstairs, themed fire and ice with bars and bottle service in each section, a gorgeous dance floor in the middle overtaken by a whirl of lights.  The first level up was a simple bar that had access at the ground level (if you didn't want to have to work your way through the club to reach it) with a contemporary yin and yang feel, traditional almost, black and white, perfectly balanced, harmonious, peaceful but still a nice pub.  The second floor, though, was both Irial and Crispin's favorite part by far, half-enclosed, half an open rooftop garden, themed industrial versus nature it had outdoor seating with a sort of alcoholic coffee shop feel.  Fabulous, as much as Irial loved clubs, he could sit up there all night, drinking Irish coffee and looking up at the stars.   

Crispin hugged Beverly when they finished the tour, kissing her temple and whispering, "You did a good job, Bev."   

Beverly preened, and Irial smiled sadly at her.  He'd hope so since her inability to tear herself away from her project in conjugation with Dominic's near constant traveling had been what caused their relationship to implode.  Beverly needed it all to have been worth the price of her relationship.  She was a bar person, though, and this place was poppin'.  Irial figured with time she'd be alright.   

"There they are!  My babies!"  Dominic cheered, the rest of Breaking Fourth as well as Penney Dear, Cheryl, Rosie, and Harry in tow.  Julia Hanson, Dominic's Victoria Secret model girlfriend, had a margarita in hand and a barely-there cocktail dress draped over her body, Dominic's arm around her waist.   

Rolling her eyes, Beverly downed the rest of her 'rum and coke, hold the rum' and shook her head, pressing a kiss on Irial and Crispin's cheeks, "I've got to go, yeah?"   

"Sorry he's a douche," Crispin apologized.   

Irial frowned as she shrugged, "Want me to take him out?  Crispin doesn't really need him in the band, do you princess?"   

Crispin hesitated while Beverly laughed, thanking him before exiting as quickly as she could.  Dominic watched her depart with something akin to regret in his eyes, and Irial sighed.  If his life was a movie, he'd plot some elaborate plan to get the two of them back together, but he _wasn't_.  This was the real world, and that meant they'd both have to deal with their own problems on their own terms while the band, Rosie, Harry, Irial, Cheryl, Dominic's family, Ariella and Holden, and even fucking _management_ expressed their chagrin at him keeping Julia around.  _That_ was real life.   

"This place looks awesome," Dominic congratulated, hugging them both in greeting while Julia stood by awkwardly as the group exchanged warm hellos before sitting down at one of the tables.   

Irial smiled wanly, "You'd have to thank Bev for that."   

Crispin tossed him a look, stealing Irial's Irish coffee as Irial ignored him and snuggled into his side.  Julia shifted uncomfortably while Dominic looked like he swallowed a lemon, "I _would_ if..." he trailed off, shook his head head and rolled his eyes, getting to his feet, "I'm going to get a drink.  You want something, Jules?"   

"Another marga- _rrrrrrrrrrita_ , please," Julia giggled.   

Irial and Crispin glanced at each other, shaking their heads while Rosie asked, "Are you sure you need one?"   

Dominic pinned her with a droll look, and Rosie shrugged, raising her glass in a silent cheers.  He walked off, and everyone turned to stare at Julia who barely lasted ten seconds under their gaze before she was bolting after Dominic.  Penney rolled her eyes and scoffed, "Dear God, what _is_ he thinking?"   

"'I want to get laid?'" Cheryl mused.   

"'I want a piece of that arse?'" Benji commented.   

Rosie frowned, "'I want genital Herpes?'"   

Micah balked at her while the rest of the table laughed, trying not to spew their drinks.  Crispin shook his head, hiding his face in Irial's shoulder; Irial just fought a smile and said, "So the boy's going through his mid-adolescent crisis?  We've all been there, right?"   

"No," most people shook their heads.   

Irial raised his eyebrows and pointed to each person in turn, "Penney...probably true.  Micah: Ani Tiernan.  Cheryl: you threw knives at your boyfriend for hanging out with his PR girlfriend.  Micah: you let management convince you it made sense to _have_ a PR girlfriend for _years_ to cover up your _actual_ girlfriend—"   

"It _did_ ," Harry added, rolling his eyes.  "Cheryl was hot mess, no offense."   

" _Some_ taken," Cheryl promised.   

Harry shrugged, and Irial went on, "Me: slut."   

"And he finally admits it!"  Rosie cheered.   

"Rosie: that hockey player."   

"Screw you, Iri."   

Irial smirked, "Harry: Hipster slag."  Harry shrugged again and raised his glass in a cheers, "Crispin: actually, you were pretty alright...that's wildly unfair, I think."   

Crispin ran his fingers through Irial's hair, smiling at him before pulling him in for a deep kiss.  The table groaned and protested, and they smiled widely, smugly at each other as they broke apart, turning to look at their friends; Irial pressed another kiss to Crispin's jaw, nipping at the skin on the underside of his jaw.  Crispin tightened his fingers in Irial's hair, tugging on it gently, and Irial smiled against his skin, giving him one last sharp bite that was sure to bruise before turning back to the table.   

"Where's Brandon tonight, then?"  Irial asked blithely, groaning in pain when Crispin yanked sharply on his hair.  Irial shot Crispin a dark look, and he smirked, taking another sip of Irial's drink and avoiding his eyes.   

Little.  Shit.  Four years had changed absolutely nothing.   

Rosie and Harry shared a look before answering together, "Working."   

"Oh he has a job now?"  Soren asked, appearing out of nowhere with his current girlfriend, some folksy singer named Cecilia.   

Irial frowned, looking between them and wondering when the hell _that_ had happened; he and Brandon didn't _talk_ because Crispin was a jealous little shit, and Irial respected that.  But he figured the bitch would have at least shot him an email when he finally managed to land a job without putting he'd spent four years being a pornstar on his resumé.  Crispin seemed just as surprised, looking to Irial for any sign that he'd known.   

Micah snorted, "That makes _one_ of you lot."   

"Actually..." Rosie began, and the whole table froze.   

"They're both working for me right now," Harry finished.   

"And who the hell are _you_ working for?"  Irial snapped.   

"Myself," Harry replied sheepishly.  Irial balked while everyone began talking over each other, yelling at Harry about not having told them that he was starting his own PR firm, or that Tyler had worked to get Dissident to hire him to handle major PR catastrophes since his speciality was 'crisis management'.   

Rosie, though, interjected before they could beat him up too much and before Irial exploded, asking as Dominic returned sans Julia, "No, the real question is whether Irial gets the stag do or the hen party."  That began a loud argument about topping, traditional gender roles in same-sex relationships, and whose the better half of the sort-of bridal party.  Irial and Crispin just passed the Irish coffee between them, took Instagram pictures of the friends, random patrons, and themselves.  At some point Irial climbed onto Crispin's lap and posted a picture of him, leaning his head back onto Crispin's shoulder looking sleeping, eyes glazed over from alcohol, and Crispin gazing down at him like _Irial_ was the best thing that ever happened to him.   

"Love?"   

"Hmm?"   

"My best mate's an arse."   

Crispin laughed, snapping a picture as he kissed Irial's cheek, but didn't disagree.


	59. "Geronimo" Aura Dione

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stag dos and hen parties and drunken phone calls...so a more festive version of the usual. And Rosie and Irial have another long awaited heart-to-heart.

**Transcript from Friday, March 1 Dorian Speaks**  
 **Dorian** : Really, I know it's heartbreaking.  Two weeks without the sultry sounds of my sexy voice.  
 **Cherrie** : And two weeks with your vain cat and evil dogs!  
 **Emerson** : Alright that's unnecessary. Stassi may be borderline sociopathic, but Marius is an angel.  
 **Dorian** : Blame my absolutely mental fiancé. 'Marius is an angel.' Let me make something clear: he ate my shoes, stole Rosie's entire turkey over Thanksgiving and didn't even eat it all, and nearly got you run over trying to chase a squirrel.  Marius is off to doggie military school while Crispin's touring, I swear.  
 **Emerson** : I protest that treatment of my baby.  
 **Dorian** : I'm your baby, love.  The dog is an unfortunate annoyance in my life that's going to military school, I don't even care.  
 **Cherrie** : Meanwhile they get to listen to every relative they never knew they had lecture them about discipline.  
 **Dorian** : Sadly, this is true. And I still don't know who Aunt Karen belongs to.  
 **Cherrie** : Who cares?  I'll take her if you'll trade for Lyndi.  
 **Emerson** : No, gran's not staying with us.  
 **Dorian** : Why not?  I love Lyn!  
 **Emerson** : That's why not.  
   
 **Irish Rose (@rosieposie)**  
Hope @DorianII is ready for tonight ^.^ (re: @Cherrie_TA @HaroldBSterling @holdtheirish)  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
How about no?  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@DorianII explain to me how you've got all the bride stuff but I'm having the hen party? #confused  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
@Cris_Emerson: it's a play on gender stereotypes? How did we get suckered into this?  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@DorianII: SOS  
  
 **Dominic Kinsey (@Nic_Kinsey)**  
@DorianII @Cris_Emerson be good friends and #stfu #ItsNotAboutYou #ItsAboutMe  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
I feel used @DorianII

* * *

"And you're absolutely sure about this?"  Rosie asked, blinking up at him with big eyes, obviously _very, very_ intoxicated.  Not that Irial could talk; he certainly wasn't much better.   

"I love him," Irial promised, adjusting the tiara that Rosie had slapped on the top of his head at the beginning of the night.   

"That's not a reason to get married," Rosie mumbled.   

"It's not a reason _not_ to.  Do you not think I should?"   

Suddenly, Irial was very much sober and very much terrified.  He loved Crispin, like gross, annoying, 'no one wants to see this' forever kind of love that made most people really uncomfortable.  Crispin was his forever; Irial knew that, had been 100% sure of that since he'd first listened to him apologize repeatedly for accidentally tripping Irial in the alley of Club Deccord being sullen and broody and decidedly Hipster while Irial had just gone out back for a smoke.   

But Rosie was his best friend and sister, even more so than his _actual_ sister.   

She was a part of the family that he'd _chosen_.  The family that he'd fought for and stood beside and helped create.  Rosie had been there for him from the beginning.  When he'd coasted into university and found himself overwhelmed by football, his newfound love for radio, drinking, smoking, and sex.  She'd been the one who'd found every leaf of marijuana he owned and made him watch as she flushed it down the toilet because "maybe some people can function when they smoke this crap but _you_ fucking can't, prick."  She'd been the one who'd gone with him (when he'd drunk too much and woke up next to a virtual stranger with no knowledge of him and this bone-deep assurance that he'd forgotten to use a condom) to get tested for every STD under the sun and then some.  She'd been the one who helped him pace himself with drinking and rubbed soothing circles onto his back as he bent over the toilet the next day when he didn't.  She'd helped him when he was determined to find his mother and let him cry on her shoulder when he found Vivian McDermott living in Scotland, married to a banker, with 2.5 perfect kids and absolutely no recollection or care about the fact that she had a son and a significant other she'd just fucked off on.  She'd stood by his side through his whole relationship with Crispin, never once doubting him when he'd fallen in love with him in basically no time at all, helped him plan their anniversaries, birthdays, and trips, held his hand and talked him through when they almost broke up, and sheltered him from all the bad press.   

Rosie, Harry, and Irial were family.   

Fuck, if he didn't love Crispin with everything in him, didn't love him until the end of forever, and wouldn't follow him to the ends of the Earth.   

But Rosie knew him, saw their relationship from the outside; Irial trusted her implicitly and had no idea what he'd do if she said that, yes, he was making a mistake marrying the love of his life.   

"I didn't say that."   

"I know you, Rosemary."   

"No, I..." Rosie sighed, trailed off and shook her head.  "Don't get defensive, Iri.  I'm not saying you're doing the wrong thing by marrying Cris.  I'm just...one second you're all 'marriage is an antiquated tradition that shows ownership of another human being and was created so that people could be assured of the legitimacy of their heirs' and the next you're proposing to a popstar.  It's not _wrong_ just confusing.  I just want to make sure that you're doing this for you and not because Cris is like—"   

"Crispin Emerson was not about to leave me just because I wouldn't marry him." Irial sighed, smiling gratefully at the bartender when he refilled Irial's Sex on the Beach.  Rosie waited, "I could probably walk away from this today, and he'd be all sadface puppy-dog, but he'd still stay with me and love me and be understanding and shit.  He's a disgustingly good person."   

Rosie snorted and nodded, "I know the feeling, bro."   

Her eyes drifted to Cheryl and Harry on the dance floor together.   

His stag do had been ridiculous and was only just winding down at like three in the morning, which is probably why they'd done it a two days before the wedding: everyone definitely needed time to wind down.  His so-called 'bridal party' consisted of Rosie, Harry, Cheryl, Holden, and his almost sixteen year old brother, Max, though the latter had had no part in planning this 'get-together'.  They'd started out the party at Yin and Yang with Cris's 'hen party' before splitting to go to a gay strip club (Irial had spent the whole time Snapchatting the experience to Cris), and finished at some swanky club in Kensington; Irial had spent the whole time wearing a tiara and 'I'm the bride' sash that Rosie had place on him with flourish before posting on Instagram because "I know how much you like that sort of thing", the bitch.   

Throughout the whole experience, Harry had only had eyes for Rosie, which wasn't anything new, because, even in university, they might have shagged and occasionally dated other people, but their supreme devotion to each other had been the ultimate relationship/boner killer.   

Charlie, tugging Brandon along, made their way over to Harry and Cheryl, chatting amicably with them, Patrick having probably gone off somewhere to get photographed with his girlfriend.  Irial didn't know what the hell that was all about, but he'd prefer, quite frankly, not to get involved, though that was becoming less and less of an option as Charlie kept coming into studio to just sit in the corner and sulk until he could full-on rant to Irial afterwards about what a colossal dick bag his best friend's girlfriend was.   

"Why don't you just _date_ him?"   

"Why did you propose?"   

Irial sighed, "Because I looked at Crispin and realized that marriage or not, I was going to spend the rest of my life with him, that I loved him, and that I was scared that if I ever got married I'd become another pathetic statistic about divorce.  But it's not marriage that kills a relationship, it's this idea that marriage is _it_.  You get married and you live happily ever after; we can listen to people talk all day long about how marriage is hard work but people go in with two mindsets: puppy dog love and the assurance if they fail they have an out or this idea everything will be blissfully happy for the rest of their lives.  It's all bullshit; you can't go in thinking you've got an out, and life isn't a movie, there's no happily ever after, you have to keep working, keep dating, keep falling in love with someone over and over again because each day they teach you something new or make you better or happier or _something_.   

"And, yes, marriage is an antiquated tradition designed entirely so that men could have legitimacy for their heirs, I'm not taking that back.  But Crispin wanted to be married for whatever reason, for validation, for ownership because he's a possessive little prick."  Rosie giggled and nodded while Irial smiled fondly, shaking his head, "And my only excuse for why I wouldn't was paper thin at best.  There was no reason why I _wouldn't_ get married, not really, no gruesome back story just a bit of pessimism and a loathing of tradition, and if I saw myself with Crispin forever, was willing to fight for him and our relationship anyway, there was no reason why I should be content to let him pine for something I had no reason not to give him.  It wasn't fair.  It was bullshit.  And after everything we've been through and were going to go through, he deserved to have that, and I love him enough to want to give anything he wants, including that."   

Rosie pursed her lips, leaned back against the bar with her eyes on Harry and sighed, "I'm terrified, you know.  Terrified that it won't work and kind of terrified that it will, especially now that we have our money tied up in a business together."  She bit her lip and shook her head, "I didn't date in high school because I was focused, because no one in my high school was good enough for me, and because I had things I wanted to accomplish, places I wanted to get to, and enough pressure put on myself to succeed in school and in life that I didn't need pressure to succeed at a relationship too.  Now...I love him, you know, I've loved him since he had the audacity to walk into our communal kitchen first year buck ass naked and look at me like 'oh, what are you doing here?'  But my dad...I can't.  Sometimes, love isn't enough."   

"Sometimes it's everything," Irial responded, studying her.   

She laughed slightly, "Yeah, I guess it got you to actually buy a Burberry suit."   

"Ugh, shut up!"   

"Cris is gonna shit himself," Rosie pointed out.   

"Wow, that's attractive," Irial rolled his eyes.   

Rosie smiled and laughed, turning to study Irial, a slight smile playing around her lips as she looked him over, "I never thought you'd be this happy, Iri.  Or this stable."   

"You could be too, you know," Irial retorted.  Rosie sniffed, turning her gaze back to Harry.  Irial finished off his drink and leaned over to whisper in her ear, "Love isn't _all_ you need.  It can't be, but you can't survive without it, Rosie.  And, take it from me, if Harry walked out of your life tomorrow, you'd be an absolute wreck, so don't pretend like he hasn't already become your Crispin...or that you two aren't screwing, because just because he isn't a biter, doesn't mean I don't know."   

Abruptly laughing, Rosie turned and poked one of the many lovebites visible on Irial's neck, jaw, and collarbone before Irial waggled his eyebrows at her, taking her hand and pulling her towards their friends.

* * *

"Oh my God, no more, no more, I don't think my body can handle any more alcohol!"  Cris lamented.   

"Lightweight!"  Dominic ribbed while the rest of the boys laughed.   

"You suck."   

"Um...nope, pretty sure that's still you, mate," Micah replied blithely while Cris flipped him off.   

"You're the one with the big mouth, Crissy; don't make a challenge you can't keep.  Come on, one more and we won't take you to yet another strip club," Ariella smirked.   

Cris glared at her, "You're the worst sister ever."   

Benji shook his head and clapped, "Come on, Crissypoo, you got this."   

Rolling his eyes and shaking his head, Cris took the massive glass of freaking rocket-fuel Polish vodka the bartender offered him and grimaced before downing as much as he could as the boys clapped and cheered him on, Ariella suspiciously recording the whole event while laughing.  When he finished, he coughed and slammed the glass down on the bar before collapsing on top of it, "I can't believe I did that."   

"I can't believe you did that either," Arthur Bailey gaped, shaking his head.  "You're absolutely mental, you know that?  You're blood-alcohol level no longer even exists, does it?  Straight vodka running through your veins."   

"Maybe," Cris pouted.  "Where's Kanani?"   

"Hanging out with your fiancé, I'd imagine; hear he's quite pissed too," Bailey mused thoughtfully, looking over at the bartender, "Do you have vegetable juice?"   

The bartender nodded, and Bailey pulled out a granola bar and offered it to Cris who smiled wanly at him and called to all his friend, "See, Bailey's the only one that loves me!"   

Ariella scoffed, "Okay, sure, wanker, I'm gonna go flirt with that cute guy on the dance floor.  Suffer."   

Dominic, Micah, Soren, and Benji plopped down at the bar, flushed and drunk.  Cris eyed the vegetable juice dubiously while Bailey nudged him and ordered, "Drink, moron."   

"Ugh, this is awful," Cris groaned.   

"Well, we can't have you _and_ you wife ill.  Who'll hold your hair in the morning?  Who'll hold his?"   

"Husband," Cris corrected, "apparently, I'm the girl in our relationship because I cook and clean and probably about a million other gender stereotypes.  I'm pretty sure we were both there for the discussion, though, for the life of me, neither Irial nor I can remember how I became the girl."   

Bailey smirked, "You did always tend to bottom."   

"Oh God, I'm not drunk enough for reminiscing," Cris moaned.   

"Who's reminiscing?  I was simply providing evidence," Bailey replied.   

Cris glared at him, "Like you went to sixth form."   

"Like _you_ did, either, Crispin Emerson."   

"Don't call me that."   

"Nervous about tomorrow...or the day after, right?"  Bailey inquired suddenly.   

Sighing, Cris ran his fingers through his hair and shrugged; Soren shifted closer to Cris, giving his a beatific smile when Cris glanced at him out of the side of his vision.  Chris shrugged, "I mean, isn't everyone nervous about their wedding day?"   

Soren and Bailey shared a looked before Soren asked, "Okay, deflection, what are you nervous about?"   

Remaining silent for a minute, Cris debated whether he should say anything before just sighing and admitting, "I don't know, I have these nightmares about being there and waiting for Irial only to have Rosie come running out screaming that he's taken off for like Paris or summat."   

Bailey pursed his lips, "I think Rosie would be the one to go with him.  So you'd probably have to wait for Harry."   

Cris gave him a dry look.   

Soren continued, "And I doubt Irial would go to Paris, he likes wilderness.  Australia?  Canada?  The States?  Brazil?  Russia?  Well...maybe not Russia, actually..."   

" _Thank you very much_ for making me feel better.  Excellent friends, the both of you," Cris rolled his eyes.  "Seriously though, what if he just freaks out?  What if he leaves me?  What if I pressured him into this?"   

"Have you talked to him about this?"  Bailey asked slowly.   

"What with every relative we have between the two of us rotating out of our house?  No."   

"Maybe you should call him?"  Soren suggested.   

"Maybe he's drunk.  Maybe it's his stag do.  Maybe he doesn't want his insecure, clingy fiancé calling him at three in the morning?"   

"Maybe you should call him anyway," Bailey pressed.   

Cris sighed and shook his head, frustrated and preparing to argue when his phone rang; he glanced down at the caller id at the same time Bailey and Soren did.  They glanced at each other, smugly, and Cris rolled his eyes and hopped up from his seat, maneuvering through the crowded club to a secluded, quieter place in the corner, eyeing Derek Havershim dancing between two girls and looking very out place being there...awkward.   

"Iri."   

"Crispin."   

They both just paused, listening to each other breathe for a moment before Irial sighed; Cris's heart rate skyrocketed suddenly.  Was this it?  Was Irial going to call off their wedding?  Was he going to pull a runaway bride before they even got to the aisle?  That would suck.  That would really, really suck.   

"I love you," Cris's heart didn't slow down any.  "And I want to marry you."   

"What?"  Cris choked, confused.   

"I just...Rosie asked me about it, if I was sure about—"   

"Me?" Cris said sadly.  He knew Rosie adored him, but Irial had always been and would always be number one (well...after Holden and Harry) in her heart.   

"Not _you_ ," Irial insisted, " _marrying_ you, more like.  And I never told you, I don't think.  I'm not just doing this because you want it.  I asked you to marry me because I love you more than anyone and anything else in the whole world, and I don't think I could ever love someone the same way.  I think if I ever lost you it would destroy me, and I...I don't want you to have any doubts about this like Rosie did, alright?  I asked you to marry me, because I love you, because you want to be married to me, and because, even though I'm dubious about the whole institution, I wouldn't mind being married to you, because neither of us is going anywhere anyway, right?  Marriage isn't the be-all, end-all, it's just us signing a piece of paper agreeing that we love and are committed to each other before God, family, and country...not a big deal."   

Cris laughed and shook his head; when he phrased it like _that_ , it sounded like a big deal, "That what you're going to tell God when you die?  'I'm just standing here about to tell you everything I've ever done wrong in my life so you can decide whether I'm an angel or a demon spawn: no big deal'."   

"Absolutely," Irial laughed.  "Maybe I'll even invite him to afternoon tea."   

"Only women spend perfectly good afternoons eating cake, drinking tea, and gossiping," Cris scoffed.   

"So... _you'll_ invite him for afternoon tea?"   

"Shut the fuck up," Cris laughed, leaning his head back against the wall and looking over to where Rosie had started a drinking game and was waving him over.  "I'm being paged for beer pong."   

"Classy," Irial snickered.  "I guess I can't say anything.  Rosie and Holden are instructing everyone in line dancing...what the actual fuck?  This is _Sparta_!"   

"This is _England_.  I don't think I'm made to be warrior."   

"Don't be ridiculous.  Take one for the team."   

"Take one so you can stay at home, raise our dogs, and literally be the epitome of an ancient trophy wife?"   

"Correct," Irial laughed.   

"I'm glad you called."   

"Me too."   

"I love you."   

"That's nice," Irial teased.   

"Can I rim you when I get home?"  Cris whined.   

Irial choked, "Um...well that escalated quickly...and when have I ever said no to that?  Does that mean I can ride you tomorrow then?"   

Cris sputtered and shook his head, "Is that a good idea?  You tend to get carried away, and you do have to _walk_ do the aisle on Tuesday, elf."  Cris waved off his sister's glare.   

"How politically incorrect of you, Crispin Emerson.  There's nothing wrong with being driven down the aisle in a wheelchair!"   

"There is when it's because you got carried away having athletic sex."   

"You might have a point; how to explain _that one_ to our guests..." Irial laughed.   

Ariella stomped her foot while Soren gave Cris a pleading look that had him sighing, "I've got to go, baby."   

"Yeah, yeah, tell Ariella I said to fuck off.  And this conversation isn't over, love!"   

Crispin laughed as he hung up; yes it was, they both knew he'd let Irial have his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit one chapter left. And Just Wright is on. And I think my freezer's working again so like omfg ICE CREAM!!!!! What am I going to do when I finish posting this?


	60. "Oh My Goodness" Olly Murs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moment we've all been waiting for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it, the last chapter. This has been amazing and really enlightening for myself since I wrote this 700 page monster in less than three months. I'm really proud of myself. Thanks for reading and sticking it out with me. Any feedback you have, I'd be really thankful if you just let me know.

**Crisial Updates (@CrisialUpdates)**  
OMG @Cris_Emerson and @DorianII are getting married today! #Congrats #GoodLuck #Proud  
  
 **Crisial Updates (@CrisialUpdates)**  
And there's no photo ban so guests can post whatever pics they take #CrisialWedding #WeddingOfTheYear #ImDying #PostVideosOfTheirVows #ImBeggingYou  
  
 **Irish Rose (@rosieposie)**  
Think @DorianII had on too many Valium #HesTooCalm #ImFreakingOut  
  
 **Harry Benton-Sterling (@HaroldBSterling)**  
@rosieposie relax, he's ready #CrisialWedding #IrialDorian #LetHimBe  
  
 **Holden Ireland (@holdtheirish)**  
@Ariella_Em106 don't you and @rosieposie look pretty...and posh #lmao #CrisialWeddingPhotos  
  
 **Ariella Emerson (@Ariella_Em106)**  
@holdtheirish I can't believe @Nic_Kinsey posted that #ImGonnaKillHim  
  
 **Breaking Fourth (@breakingfourth)**  
@Cris_Emerson gets married to bf of 4 yrs @DorianII in less than two hours!!!!! #WishHimLuck  
  
 **Soren Reid (@sorensoars)**  
My bestie @Cris_Emerson is getting hitched :)  
  
 **Arthur Bailey (@ArthurBailey)**  
@sorensoars you forgot to add 'to a psycho' #justsaying #nervous #excited #IMightCry  
  
 **Kanani Kapuana (@Kanani_Hawaii)**  
@ArthurBailey I'll be posting those online ;)  
  
 **Cheryl Atterberry (@Cherrie_TA)**  
@DorianII is way too chill. I'm nervous FOR him #GonnaPuke #ILookTooPosh #NotOkay  
  
 **Lucy Lou (@LucyGrey)**  
My bro's getting married. Can officially call @Cris_Emerson my brother-in-law in like an a hr #nervous #excited #CrisialWedding  
  
 **Cathy Greyson (@WutheredCathy)**  
Omfg @LucyGrey @EllietheSquib @Maxwell_Greyson @rosieposie @holdtheirish @HaroldBSterling @Ariella_Em106 this is it #hyperventilating  
  
 **Eleanor Mary (@EllietheSquib)**  
Wishing my brothers @DorianII @Cris_Emerson all the luck in the world for their marriage  
  
 **Max Greyson (@Maxwell_Greyson)**  
Standing up with my bro @DorianII today #ItllBeAGoodDay  
  
 **Willamina Leddy (@OfficialWilla)**  
Excited to see @DorianII and @Cris_Emerson tie the knot today  
  
 **Davina Allard (@DavinaTheWitch)**  
@DorianII @Cris_Emerson wedding today!!!!!  
  
 **Penelope Dearly (@penney_dear)**  
They would have their wedding reception at a club...  
  
 **Alina Rosen (@AlinaAzadi)**  
@AzadiOfficial going to witness soulmates get married ^.^  
  
 **Charles Beck (@Charlie_Beck)**  
Ready to see my mate @DorianII marry the love of his life with @PattyGallagher  
  
 **Derek Havershim (@Derek_Haves)**  
Today: wedding of the year.  I'm ready  
  
 **Emma Cross (@EmmaCross)**  
Never thought I'd bear witness to this awesomeness #CrisialWedding  
  
 **Micah Cross (@MC_Cross)**  
@EmmaCross that is true! Glad they got it together. This is fantastic. I'm such a proud band papa.  
  
 **Benji Irving (@BenjiDIrving)**  
@penney_dear classy wedding venue...club reception. My boys though #smh  
  
 **Morgan McCallum (@Morgan_McCallum)**  
Never thought I'd see @Cris_Emerson and @DorianII walk down the aisle..but I'm glad.  
  
 **Sean Dougherty (@FootballerSean)**  
@DorianII surprised me by getting married, more so by getting hitched to @Cris_Emerson but mdx football team 2014-2015 is all gonna be there to support you  
  
 **Beverly Dixon (@BevDixonOfficial)**  
Nervous and excited for my former protege @DorianII and his boy @Cris_Emerson to get married  
  
 **Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@DorianII 'Oh My Goodness' by Olly Murs  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
@Cris_Emerson I love you too. I'll see you at the alter <3  
  
 **Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**  
OMFG I'M GETTING FUCKING MARRIED TO THE LOVE OF MY LIFE TODAY!!!!!!!!  
  
 **Theresa Sinclair (@crisial4eva)**  
Did @DorianII just realize this?  Where has he been?  
  
 **Larry the ex-intern (@shippingLarry)**  
@crisial4eva it's @DorianII best to just roll with it.  
  
 **The Lookout (@darlingdori)**  
I'm think I have a career in this...congrats to #Crisial I'm moving onto to bigger, better, and juicer gossip

* * *

> _"There are time where everything seems out of place_   
> _When I understand I cannot face another day_   
> _When there's nothing left for them to say._   
> _There are moments when everyone seems so far_   
> _When each day bequeaths a hard fought new scar_   
> _And I resort to wishing on shooting stars."_

Irial stripped off his blazer and dropped it on the back of his coat, ducking away from the videographer that both Crispin and Irial had protested against quite loudly when they'd learned of his existence, not that their mother's had been willing to listen to reason, loosening his tie and unbuttoning the top button of his dress shirt as he took the familiar path down the back hallway of Club Deccord, past the bathroom where he could hear Alina Rosen complaining about her high heels while Emma commiserated, feeling equally as exasperated with her girdle.  He snickered, kept moving.   

It wasn't long before he was looking both ways and ducking out the back door, hurriedly slipping through it into the alleyway just beyond, fingers already reaching for the couple of cigarettes that Crispin had slipped to Rosie who'd, in turn, carefully hid them in Irial's breastpocket after his mother had confiscated them for 'the duration of the ceremony' when he tripped over something solid but decidedly squishy, hurdling towards the ground as he yelp burst out of him.   

A hand caught him, yanking him upright and back into a warm, familiar body that he melted into automatically, eyes closing and one hand reaching up to twine into Crispin's hair as he leaned down to press his lips to the hollow of Irial's throat, humming lazily and nipping his skin lightly.   

He felt Crispin's lips curve into a smile on his neck as he whispered, "Sorry."   

Irial shook his head, massaging his fingers on Crispin's scalp, "Alright."  They stayed that way, their left hands entwined, wedding bands clinking against each other as their fingers tangled and tightened.  Twisting his head to look into Crispin's molten gold eyes, he said, "I've been looking for you."   

Crispin hummed thoughtfully, "You found me."

> _"Wishing for something good to come_   
> _To cease drowning in the rum_   
> _To return to the place I came from_   
> _To make a new and better choice_   
> _To find a stronger voice_   
> _To be more than this pathetic boy."_

Cris was nervous.   

Like hella nervous.   

Like sweating bullets nervous.   

Like it's a good thing Benji confiscated all the alcohol nervous.   

He fixed his suit in the mirror for about the hundredth time and met Micah's eyes in the mirror while Micah shrugged, " _You're_ the one who wanted to get married."   

Huffing in annoyance, Cris pointed a warning finger at Micah and shook his head, grateful, at the very least, that his tux was Burberry.  At least he had on his posh, stereotypical, fashionable British armor.  If he got left at the alter...he'd always have his Burberry tuxedo...not that he'd ever want to wear one again, but still, "I _do_ want to get married.  I'm nervous, but I _still_ want to get married, Micah; what's you excuse?"   

Micah sighed and shook his head suddenly looking tired, "Never mind that, Crissy.  It's _your_ day."   

"The bride's day!" Dominic exclaimed as he wandered into the room, striking a pose in the doorway until Benji came up from behind and shoved him into the room.  Dominic snarled at him while Benji just rolled his eyes and hopped onto the table top to look at Cris with the most sad, tear-jerking face on...though his hands were still steady enough to snap a picture, which he uploaded to Instagram.   

Dick.   

"I can't believe Miranda actually managed to tame that head of yours," Soren loped into the room with Ariella hot on his heels.   

Ariella put her hands on her hips and cocked her head, studying Cris was on the verge of hyperventilation.  She rolled her eyes and shook her head, "You've been saying you're gonna marry this kid since before you'd even _found_ him...cyber-stalked him...invited yourself over for dinner at his house...and started _dating_ him.  What's the problem?"   

Cris let out a shaky breath and exclaimed, "What if he doesn't show up?!"   

Soren shared a look with Micah while Dominic just rolled his eyes and shook his head.  Benji didn't seem the slightest bit impressed, "Did you two talk at all yesterday?"   

Cris balked, "Not about _this_."   

Ariella shook her head like they'd disappointed her and walked over to Cris, putting both hands on his cheeks, "Crispin Samuel Emerson, you listen to me.  That boy loves you more than anyone, anything, I've ever seen.  I didn't know people could love like that until I saw the two of you."   

"Are you gonna be cliche and say that we made you believe in love or some shit?"   

Dominic huffed, "You made _me_."   

"Shut up and listen, Cris," Ariella demanded.  He focused. "He wouldn't do that to you.  You have to trust to him."   

"I do." Cris snapped defensively without hesitation.   

"Good," Florence said, appearing in the doorway with tears in her eyes as she gazed at her son, "because it's time to go."

> _"Here you come like the sun_   
> _Strolled on in, now I'm done_   
> _Some kind of serendipity_   
> _All piece of you and me_   
> _More than lights, more than dreams_   
> _The two of us, it's everything_   
> _I never thought my life could be."_

Rosie met Irial's eyes, twisting from side to side in her emerald dress and meeting Irial's eyes in the mirror.  She must have read the panic there, because she spun around without any warning and order, "Get out."  Everyone froze, and she repeated, "Seriously, everybody out right now."   

As soon as the room evacuated (with minimal arguments and looks of panics from the evacuees), Irial spun around to face Rosie, one hand pressed against his chest.  "What if I'm not ready for this?"   

Rosie nodded and grabbed his hands, holding them firmly in her own, "You are."   

"What if he's not ready for this?"   

She snorted, "He _definitely_ is.  That boy's been ready to marry you since he ate like _all_ of _my_ homemade moo shu pork."   

"What if I fuck this up?"   

"You won't," Rosie said, absolutely sure.   

Irial swallowed and bowed his head, taking a shuddering breath before forcing out in a broken whisper, "What if he leaves me for some Sports Illustrated model or reality tv star or some...bullshit?"   

For a moment, Rosie studied him without the look of sympathy or pity that would be on anybody else's face.  Rosie scoffed and shrugged, offering him a half-smile, "Then he leaves you for some Sports Illustrated model or reality tv star or some bullshit like that."  Irial wasn't alarmed, wasn't shocked, wasn't appalled like anybody else would be; he just met her gaze and waited.  She shrugged, "You can't predict that.  You wouldn't even want to.  So maybe he does.  And maybe that sucks.  And maybe if you let a _maybe_ stop you from marrying the love of your life you're forever going to wonder, and you're gonna hate yourself for walking away from this when you want this.  And he wants it...he wants _you_.  You remember what you said to me?  When I told you I was in love with Harry over really _really_ bad shrimp cocktail and that disgusting thing of boxed wine?"   

Irial grimaced, "That meal that we ate over re-runs of Star-Crossed?  That we got food poisoning from?"  Rosie laughed and nodded; Irial hesitated, sighed, shook his head.  It was a lie, and Rosie knew it.   

"You said to me that just because my father left and just because all of my boyfriends sucked ass and left me in the worst ways possible, didn't mean that everybody would.  That someday I'd meet someone who stayed because they loved me, who came home even when they didn't like me very much.  That my mother had stuck around, didn't that prove something?"   

"You said no."   

"I lied," Rosie admitted, shrugging.  "Cris is gonna stay.  Always.  Even if you walk away because you're scared.  Just like Molly stayed even though she didn't want to raise somebody's else's son alone.  Doesn't _that_ prove something?"  Irial closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, nodding his head; Rosie met his eyes and smiled cheekily, kissing his forehead and leaving a burgundy imprint on his cheek.  He scowled and grabbed a paper towel to wipe it off while she flounced over to the door, ripping it open and beaming at his worried bridal party and family, "He's ready."

> _"A million times this job has got too hard._   
> _A couple hours drag on like we're years apart,_   
> _Worlds so separated I don't know where you are._   
> _This life and times just feel so crazy_   
> _And there's no one here to blame but me_   
> _A part of me is sorry."_

Cris didn't relax until he saw Irial walking out with Molly, nervous but not in a way that said he was about to bolt for the nearest exit and wearing _Burberry_ (he may be right, Cris had a bit of an obsession).  He'd talked Miranda out of shaving him, so he was scruffy with his honeyed hair cut short but styled artfully messy, a wayward strand falling right into his silver-grey eyes.  He met Cris's eyes, and they both relaxed instantly, Irial tossing him a smile and poking out his tongue to show Cris that, yes, he _had_ worn a Batman tongue stud.   

Idiot.   

He smiled and stifled a laugh.   

Everything was the usual perfect disarray and madness that he expected for the two of them.  Soren, his best man, holding Marius who was trying to dig a hole in the grass, with Ariella, Dominic, Benji, and Micah standing beside him.  Rosie holding Stassi (bored but poised and disinterested) with Max, Cheryl, Harry, and Holden beside her.  His mother and Molly were beaming at each other, both of them crying as they handed off the boys to each other, hanging on tightly when their stepfathers stepped forward to escort their aggrieved wives back to their seats.  Irial rolled his eyes, and Cris smirked as they turned to the preacher.   

Okay, so maybe formal ceremonies weren't really their thing.  God only knows what would have happened if they'd stuck with traditional vows instead of writing their own as neither of them were paying attention, making subtle (not really) faces at each other out of their corner of their eye.  Apparently, Father Zach only found Irial's antics endearing; Cris got _several_ dark looks that made him flash back to his younger days at church.  He shuddered; Irial bit back a smile until they were both startled back to the present when Father Zach told them that they could say their vows.   

They turned to each other, eyes wide, suddenly nervous again.   

Sing in front of thousands of people?   

No problem.   

Recite vows in front of their friends and family ( _really_ extended family...like who the hell _are_ half these people?) and he turns into a nervous wreck. Nice.

> _"Here you come like the sun_   
> _Strolled on in, now I'm done_   
> _Some kind of serendipity_   
> _All piece of you and me_   
> _More than lights, more than dreams_   
> _The two of us, it's everything_   
> _I never thought my life could be."_

Irial took a deep breath and nodded, blocking out all their 200 some guests (half of whom they really didn't know because these are the kinds of things that happen when your mothers make the guest list).  Crispin looked as nervous as Irial, shooting his childhood preacher a desperate look.   

Fighting a smile, Irial squeezed his hands, grabbing his attention, half-smiling and nodding; Crispin exhaled, smiled tentatively and met his eyes, "Iri."   

"Crispin."   

They ignored their laughing friends and family, focusing on each other.   

"I think everybody was expecting me to write something poetic and flowery, but I wrote you like three albums so...I think that's a bit redundant."   

"Honesty's cool too," Irial whispered and shrugging with a grin.  Crispin beamed.   

"I'm really not sorry that I tripped you behind Club Deccord. In my defense, you really should have been looking where you were going, although, I probably should have taken better care where I was standing to be an introspective Hipster."  Irial nodded, and Crispin bite his lip, smiling, "Tripping you was the best thing that ever happened to me, because you never would have talked to me otherwise."  Irial laughed and shook his head, "And you certainly didn't make it easy on me.  I scoured phonebooks to find you, and I came up with absolutely nothing until Emma Cross recited your tagline on Twitter like it was gospel.  So I tracked you down at your job and you clearly thought I was there to kill you but was way too tired to really _care_ either way.  Soren thought I was absolutely crazy because I didn't know you and I was already writing about how much I seriously believed that I could fall in love with you if you gave me half a chance.  I didn't think you were going to, babe, and I was okay with that."   

"Oh Jesus," Irial blurted, shaking his head.   

Crispin paused, blushing and backtracked, "Sort of, but you claimed out of a bathroom window to escape your date.  And listened to vinyls with me over dinner.  And watch Sci-fi with me even though you _hate_ science fiction _anything_.  You even tried to cook for me, and it didn't particularly go well," Irial laughed, "but thank you for trying."  Irial was crying.  This boy...seriously.  "I knew I wanted to marry from the minute you made me watch Les Miserables because I have 'terrible taste in cinema' and let a virtual stranger who cyber-stalked you cuddle with you on the couch because I'm touchy-feely like that.  You're my best friend.  You know everything about me.  And I love you.  We've made some mistakes."   

"Like the dog?"   

Shaking his head, Crispin smiled and shook his head, "And we're probably gonna make a lot more, but you're everything to me, and I don't know what I would do without you and I don't want to.  And I know you're scared," Irial froze, tears pouring out of his eyes, and Crispin smiled at him softly and wiped his tears away with his thumbs, "That's okay because so am I."   

"That's not comforting."   

"The _point_ is that we're gonna do this together, figure this out together they way that we always have.  And I'm going to love you and stand beside you and support you as long as you'll let me.  I want to be with you _always_.  Alright?"   

Irial's throat was burning and sore, heart pounding, and tears poured from his eyes.  He nodded and laughed slightly, beaming at Crispin who he loved more every day.  He'd move heaven and earth to keep him.   

Than he realized it was _his_ turn.   

Well, fuck.

> _"In the midst of the party, I try to forget_   
> _Breathe in fresh air, a moment to clear my head._   
> _A door opens and you trip into my life_   
> _No more names, no more apologies tonight."_

Irial looked like he was gonna run...or throw up, only this time, Cris wasn't worried.  He understood the feeling because vows were stressful, vows were unnerving, and that was from a man who spent his life selling his feelings to billions of people across the globe.  Irial didn't _do_ feelings in _private_ , let alone in front of their assorted assembled family, friends, and the like who had free reign to post this shit on YouTube...and Keek...and Vine...and Instagram...and Twitter...and Facebook...and whatever other social media outlet they could find.  Maybe this hadn't been the greatest plan they'd ever had.   

Cris squeezed Irial's hand tighter, the other one moving from his cheek to his neck, thumb running along his jawline.  Irial closed his eyes for a moment, taking several deep breaths and relaxing into the touch; his hand came up to lock around Cris's wrist, and he opened his eyes and smiled at Cris, the soft, vulnerable, adoring smile that lit up his whole being and was devoid of any of his usual attempts to hide his emotions.  The smile very _very_ few people ever saw, and that Cris lived for and melted under.  He was a sap.  Duh.   

"You're right.  I wouldn't have talked to you if you hadn't tripped me, because you looked like you were twelve and that was a problem," Cris shook his head and smiled.  He'd heard this before.  Irial continued, "But I liked you, a lot, and I don't really _like_ many people that I also want to—"   

"There are kids present," Cris cut off hastily.   

Irial blushed and shrugged, "You took me completely by surprise, Crispin.  I was practical.  I was twenty and hard and rational.  Rational people don't let strangers invite themselves over or snuggle with them on the couch or build their whole lives around people they barely know.  They don't fall in love with them after dating for barely three months, actually they don't fall in love with their best friends.  Period, methinks."  Cris laughed and shrugged; he had a point.  Irial smiled, "You're everything I never wanted.  You weren't even my type."   

"That's because asshole was your type," Cris whispered.   

"Not in front of the children," Irial said airily.  "I didn't expect you.  I didn't expect you to turn me sappy.  I didn't expect you to make me all mushy and vulnerable.  I didn't expect you to make me love you like I never even had a choice.  One day it was me and Rosie and Harry and all of our promiscuous behavior, and the next it was you and just you because nobody else even mattered.  Because if you were happy, everything was fine, and if you weren't like my whole life was the fucking Walking Dead without Rick: depressive and zombie-infested."   

"You hate that show," Cris laughed and shook his head in between his tears.   

Irial nodded, "I know!  First I didn't think I could, then I wasn't sure I should, and I never thought I was good enough for you, like you could do better, but I don't really want you to.  You make everything better.  You make me better.  You know better than anyone else, even Rosie, which I didn't think was possible.  You're amazing.  I've never met a better person than you, and I won't.  You make me feel like everything is gonna be okay even if it's not.  And like my whole world is right and perfect even it's shit.  And I never thought I'd ever be getting married, and apparently none of our friends and family did either but we're both standing here because I can't imagine my life without you, mostly because I don't want to try.  You're the only person who's ever made me feel like you're right here when you're not, who I wake up for at two in the morning to answer text messages from, who I've cried for and in front of because you don't make me feel any weaker for doing it.  You're the only person I actually _try_ for, and it feels absolutely effortless because I _want_ to try for you.  You're like the Spock to my Kirk if that show hadn't been made in a homophobic era.  You're my _t'hy'la_ ," Cris barked out a laugh, face wet with tears, awed and shocked by Irial who continued, rolling his eyes and looking heavenward, "and it's your fucking fault I even know what that _is_.   

"I want to love you everyday for the rest of our lives with your evil mutt and my angelic one, and the cat who's totally a manipulator that you seriously overfeed.  You turned her into a treat-junkie. I swear.  I let you get away with it, though, because I'd do anything for you.  I'd follow you anywhere, even zoos, despite the fact that I hate them, and down totally sketch alleys in basically third world countries because I'm not gonna let some South America druglord kidnap you for ransom just because you were an idiot."  Cris laughed again and shook his head; _that_ hadn't been his smartest idea; Irial turned his head and pressed a kiss into Cris's palm, gazes still locked, "Yeah, I'm scared, but I love you in a way that I never thought was even possible.  I'm not going anywhere without you."   

The last part was whispered, soft-spoken, a promise and a caress.  Cris stilled for a moment, reading the sincerity and the fear in Irial's expression before deciding fuck the ceremony, fuck the crowd, this wasn't about that anyway.  They should have done this Grey's Anatomy style and written their vows on a piece of paper between surgery or something; his hand tightened on the back of Irial's neck, the only warning before he crashed their lips together, drinking him in and letting him know message received.  Cris loved him vulnerable as much as he loved him strong and hardened, wanted him any way, any time, any where, and didn't give two shits what anybody else had to say about it.   

Irial melted against him, their mouths moving against each other, bodies pressed together tightly, and they cried.  They healed.

> _"Here you come like the sun_   
> _Strolled on in, now I'm done_   
> _Some kind of serendipity_   
> _All piece of you and me_   
> _More than lights, more than dreams_   
> _The two of us, it's everything_   
> _I never thought my life could be."_

Father Zach had been pissed that they'd hijacked the ceremony, never mind that it had been there ceremony.   

Whatever.   

They'd just done things Crispin and Irial style.   

Then they'd posed for pictures that neither of them had really been excited for, but it had been the only agreement that they could get from their mothers to reason why they shouldn't have professional photographers (re:wedding paparazzi) throughout the whole ceremony.  They'd done the mandatory mother-son dances and had their first dance (to a song that wasn't a rock song but 'Give Me Love' by Ed Sheeran...what else?), and listened to their respective best friends and families give the most embarrassing toasts known to man (Ariella did _not_ have to talk about the time she saw them screwing in their living room...unnecessary).   

It was overwhelming.   

Irial's family had accosted him to pinch cheeks, and Crispin had fled, which was how they'd ended up right back where they started.   

He scoffed, " _I_ found _you_."   

"Yep," Crispin beamed, pressing a kiss behind Irial's ear.   

"I don't remember it happening like that at all," Irial whispered, turning in Crispin's arms and resting his hands over his chest, one hand playing with the necklace he was still wearing even one their wedding day.  Crispin never took it off; Irial beamed and pulled Crispin's head down for a kiss.   

"I thought you were _looking_."   

"Definitely not," Irial remarked against Crispin's lips.   

Crispin ran his hands through Irial's hair before cupping his face, eyeing him seriously, "I don't think we're talking about the same thing anymore."   

"Probably not."  Crispin laughed, and Irial smirked, nipping at his jawline, "Weddings are boring."   

"Oh my God," Crispin moaned, leaning his head on Irial's shoulder while he sucked a hickey to the base of his throat with absolutely zero for concern for the fact that 250 people would see it when they went back inside.  It's okay, Irial figured.  It's not like anybody thought they were celibate, especially not after Ariella's toast.   

"Seriously, we should have eloped."   

"To Monte Carlo?"   

"We'd be broke.  Honestly, love," Irial tsked, licking a stripe up Crispin's throat and grinning when he stifled a moan.  Irial rocked back on his heels and studying his new husband with open affection he usually reserved for... _no one_.  Ever.  What had this boy done to him?  "Crispin?  I love you."   

Crispin smiled softly at Irial, "Why do you sound like you're about to run?"   

"I don't think I _can_.  I'm pretty sure everyone from here to the frozen tundra of Siberia has seen that YouTube video...and their mothers...and their grandmothers...and their primitive Stone Age ancestors six times removed.  They'd find me and bring me back," Irial whispered dramatically.   

Smirking, Crispin nodded, "We can tattoo 'Property of Crispin Emerson' on you to make it easier."  Irial opened his mouth to retort, paused, and thought that over.  "You're not actually thinking about that are you?  Oh my God...you _are_.  Stop it," Crispin ordered, yanking his out of his thoughts with a powerful kiss that made Irial groan, hips canting into Crispin's as his mouth opened to tangle their tongues together.   

A door slammed open before closing again with a yelp before Rosie yelled, "Bitches stop having sex and come cut your damn wedding cake!"   

They both pulled back, breathless, lips swollen, and eyes glazed over with lust; Crispin shook his head and looked down at Irial, "Menace."   

"You shouldn't start something you can't finish."   

Crispin smirked at him, palming Irial through the fabric of his way-too-expensive trousers; Irial moaned, and Crispin leaned down to whisper in his ear, "Let's go shove cake in each other's face," before stepping away.   

Irial huffed and scowled at Crispin who laughed at his expression and held the door open.  Stalking through it, Irial murmured, "Little shit."   

Lacing their hands together and stopping him, Crispin drew Irial into one more bruising kiss and whispered against his lips, "You love me."   

_That hadn't ever been a question._

> _"Here you come like the sun_   
> _Strolled on in, now I'm done_   
> _Some kind of serendipity_   
> _All piece of you and me_   
> _More than lights, more than dreams_   
> _The two of us, it's everything_   
> _I never thought my life could be._   
> _It can barely be believed._   
> _I never could've dreamed_   
> _You'd be the one for me."_

**Property of Crispin Emerson (@DorianII)**  
@Cris_Emerson: There are people that come into your life and just change everything. You rise 2gether and fall 2get and find each other.  
  
 **Husband of Irial Dorian (@Cris_Emerson)**  
@DorianII You're the best thing I ever got. I'm so glad we found each other. I love you #serendipity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was actually planning to completely write out the wedding scene uninterrupted, weddings are so so boring that I just really couldn't handle it and wrote it out this way instead. The Star Trek reference in his wedding vows was just necessary to my life. I cannot even.


End file.
